


Branching Out: The Continuing Adventures of the Young Avengers

by DangerousCommieSubversive



Series: The Shapes Of Our Lives [2]
Category: DCU, Runaways (Comics), Young Avengers
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, NSFW, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Sex Pollen, Snippets, Suit Porn, Tumblr Prompt, all kinds of stuff, crossovers, in fact, lawyer!Tommy, not all safe for work, shortfic, sort of, yeah you saw right that's a foursome there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 34,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DangerousCommieSubversive/pseuds/DangerousCommieSubversive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets and prompt fics about the Young Avengers in the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/667055">Parallel Lines</a> continuity, all originally posted to <a href="dangerouscommiesubversive.tumblr.com">my Tumblr</a>. Rating varies from chapter to chapter--check each chapter summary for details! This'll be updated with further snippets as I write them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Test Run

**Author's Note:**

> These first stories are posted chronologically _in-universe_ \--as in, this is the order they _happen_ in. When more get added, well...that's where everything gets a little mixed up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Miss America side-eye each other like crazy, and then go on patrol together to see if Miss A could be part of the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was written for [Maelikki](maelikki.tumblr.com), and is based on [this piece of art](http://maelikki.tumblr.com/post/46706159707/kate-and-miss-america-if-theres-one-thing-3-has) by her. It actually happens during _Parallel Lines_ , during and after "Teddy Bear/Fluffy Bunny."

“So...what? You show up, tell us we're in danger, kick this kid's ass, and then...what?” Kate sheds the stupid tiger costume as quickly as possible and tosses it in the Dumpster next to the lair, scowling, the _tail_ that she _still has_ switching furiously behind her. “What's your deal?”

The other girl, America Chavez, blinks at her from where she's still kneeling on Loki's shoulders. “Thought you said I was a Young Avenger who didn't know it yet.”

“It's bad form for a leader to show weakness in front of their team.” Kate adjusts her sunglasses angrily. “And I'm a good leader. What are you?”

“Perhaps _I_ can—”

“Shut up, Loki, I'll deal with you in a minute. So spill, America Chavez. What's your deal? _Teddy_ knows who you are; why am _I_ not in on this?”

America rolls her eyes. “Blondie isn't in on anything. People snap pictures. Damn phone cameras, going off all over the place. I'm _here_ because _Junior_ here tried to hire me to kill your cute little wizard guy. Wants him dead. You got that, rich girl?”

“I was _doing_ that because I wanted you to—”

“Save it, Loki.”

She gives his shoulder a shake, and he cringes. “Not the face?”

“Not gonna hit you if you stay _down,_ idiot, and don't try pulling any of that teleporting shit.” She huffs irritably and looks back up at Kate. “So. We clear?”

Kate stares at her for a moment, calculating, and then says, “Clear enough. Come patrol with me tonight.”

America starts, surprised, and Loki takes that moment to mutter something and disappear. She curses _extensively_ in Spanish before calming down enough to say, “Patrol? With _you?_ ”

Kate raises an eyebrow. “Is that a _problem?_ ”

“No, no...” She rubs a hand over her face, seeming oddly tired. “Just seems...out of nowhere, that's all.”

“Think of it as a test run.” Suddenly Kate smirks. “We'll see if you're good enough to be a Young Avenger.”

America snorts. “Girl, you and your pals have _nothing_ on me.”

“Then obviously you should come patrol with me, show me what you've got.”

“You're on.”

\--

“You _patrol_ in that outfit?”

“I patrol in whatever I've got on.” America hooks a thumb in one of the useless belt-loops on her shorts and looks Kate up and down, apparently unimpressed. “At least I'm not wearing a purple jumpsuit.”

Kate lets out an unladylike snort. “ _This_ outfit has cultural significance. And anyway, you should see what Hawkeye used to wear. _I_ wouldn't be caught dead in it.”

This gives America pause. “Thought _you_ were Hawkeye right now.”

“So's he. We're both Hawkeye. We share.”

“That's...egalitarian of you.”

“Yeah, well, he needs all the help he can get. Your codename is Miss America, right? Come on.”

They range up and down the streets of the city, and Kate has to admit, grudgingly, that they make a pretty good team—she can stay at street level, frequently _across_ the street from whatever crime they're stopping, while America gets in close to kick and punch.

Four muggings, two convenience store hold-ups, and scolding some asshole who's mistreating his dog later, they've got a decent rhythm going. Kate still isn't sure she really _likes_ America, although watching her move is all _kinds_ of educational, but it's working. She could maybe be part of the team.

A couple of hours in they get what counts as a breather for them, which is to say that America stops to have a _very serious talk_ with someone about the basic mechanics of _consent_ while Kate walks his reeling date home, helps her brush her teeth, tucks her into bed, and locks her windows and door securely. She shoots America a text, and they meet back up at a convenience store, and she says, “So yeah, maybe you could be a Young—”

—alarms going off. Not from the convenience store, but from...

“That's the Met.”

America doesn't even _ask;_ she just loops an arm around Kate's waist and jumps into the air. “So what's at the Met right now that could be dangerous?” she shouts over the wind as they hurry there.

“Vibranium!” Kate resists the urge to shriek as they drop down from the sky. “Some Wakandan sculptor makes figurines in the stuff!”

“Seems wasteful to me!”

“I know, right?”

HYDRA goons are pouring out of a transport in front of the Metropolitan Museum, and a couple of Avengers are already there. Clint even waves to her, and shouts, “Good to see you, Hawkeye!”

“Good to see you too, Hawkeye, it's a nice night for it!”

America rolls her eyes at them and charges forward.

Mostly it goes ok; the fight is a blur of fists and feet and bullets and arrows, doing untold damage to the facade of the museum as they try to prevent the HYDRA goons from making off with any tiny, precious vibranium statuettes. Hawkeye and Spiderwoman do a lot of the work, but Kate thinks she does her fair share, and America's just a whirlwind in the middle of it all. It's all kinds of fun to see, and Kate's having a pretty good time, and then America turns, face furious, and dives at _her._

Kate sputters and shouts, “What the _hell—_ ” as she's knocked backwards, losing her footing as she hits the wall and sliding down onto her ass—

—and the explosion has her ears ringing. She's seeing spots. She blinks the spots away and looks up at—

America crouched over her, hands on the wall bracketing Kate's head. Smoke curls up past her head from what Kate sees in a momentary HYDRA-transport reflection is a gaping hole in the back of her denim jacket.

Kate says, dumbly, barely able to hear herself, “You lost your hat.”

America shrugs. “He shot a rocket at you.”

“I...” Slowly she leans forward, in what she _knows_ is a weird gesture, and shifts around to run her hand over where America's back is exposed by the rocket hole. Her skin is perfectly smooth, unburned—she hasn't even worked up a _sweat._ “Did I know you could do that?”

At the touch of Kate's hand America went stiff, but now her mouth quirks a little, and she says, warmly, “Lot of things about me you don't know.”

 _“Clearly.”_ Her ears are still ringing, and Kate reaches up to feel them and make sure she's not _bleeding_ or something, because this is the kind of thing that damages eardrums. “So. Miss America. How would you like to be a Young Avenger?”

America— _Miss_ America—smiles a little wider. “I'd be delighted, Hawkeye.”

“Good. _Good._ ...so Miss America Chavez is kind of a mouthful. Can I call you Miss A?”


	2. Kissing Miss America

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "fakesheep-luna asked:
> 
> Muajajajajaaaa!!! Found ya! And I’m gonna ask for Kate/Miss A light sex scene… with all the guys secretly witnessing it by accident."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably one of my most popular prompt fics--I suspect because it's one of the funniest. ^_^ Also? NSFW. At least, not really.

Kissing Eli had always felt like a fight in progress; he wasn't, when you got down to it, a terribly aggressive person, but he kissed like he had something to prove. Kissing Tommy, the one time she'd done it, had been surprisingly nice, but he was so twitchy that he _tasted_ impatient. Kate had kissed a few other boys in her time, too, with varying degrees of seriousness, and every kiss had its own character.

Kissing Miss A was simultaneously like all of those and none of them.

She smelled different, for one thing. Some of that was probably just women's deodorant or something, but there was something else too, a hint of cordite and cinnamon that was unspeakably intoxicating. For another thing, she was _curvy,_ which was...new. And exciting. They fit together in a different way, a way that seemed somehow more _organic._ More comfortable.

Or maybe that was just because Kate was _incredibly_ turned on, and it was making it sort of hard to think.

Normally she wouldn't have picked one of the living room couches at the lair as an ideal makeout spot, but the boys were out seeing some terrible movie, and the couch she and Miss A had colonized _was_ pretty big. Initially they'd just been watching _To Catch A Thief_ and having popcorn, but that had turned into a semi-argument about the best Hitchcock movie ever made, and then _that_ had turned into Kate defending _Rebecca_ with some passion, and then from there it'd been like a movie itself, with them getting closer and closer together until the only thing that made sense was to kiss her. And kisses, when you're getting them from someone you _really like_ (because she could definitely concede that she _really liked_ Miss A, even if she wasn't sure about what came after that), are like potato chips—one is never, ever enough.

She'd ended up on her back on the couch, Miss A sort of half on top of her and peppering tiny kisses in the general _vicinity_ of her mouth. When that got too frustrating, though, it didn't take much shifting for Kate to tilt her head up, catch soft lips with her own, and suck Miss A's tongue into her mouth. Above her, Miss A made a little startled whining noise and started breathing faster, and her hands tightened on Kate's shoulders.

Feeling bolder, Kate slid her hands up under Miss A's t-shirt, surprised that she didn't feel any scars. They'd never really talked about where Miss A got her powers from, but whatever they were, they were potent. Even Kate had scars, and she hadn't done nearly as much hero work as Miss A, apparently, who'd been across worlds that Kate would never see.

Her hand hit the band of Miss A's bra, and she froze for a moment. Unexplored territory. Miss A pulled back a bit and smiled. “Go for it, rich girl. We've got the place to ourselves.”

Kate grinned and said, “Try me, bubblegum,” and went for the clasp of the bra.

After a long minute, though, she said, “Oh my _god,_ how does this _work?_ I mean, I can unhook my _own_ bra fine, how is _yours_ so difficult?”

“Not sure, really. I think undoing a bra from behind is a special skill. Null and I got mind-whammied by this thing once and started making out, and we only snapped out of it because he couldn't get my bra undone and he started swearing.” Miss A knelt up between Kate's legs, smiling, and pulled her shirt off in one smooth motion. Then she undid her bra and pulled that off too, and Kate swallowed hard. “Then of course he thought we should pick back up where we'd left off, but I told him no. I don't really like—mm.”

“Like that?”

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah, do that.”

“So what don't you really like?”

“Um. Guys. That's _really_ distracting—fuck, Katie, where the hell _is_ the hook on yours?”

“Front closure. It's a racerback. Easier for me to shoot in.”

Her shirt was a button-down today, too, not that she'd _planned_ on making herself easy-access or anything, but Miss A could apparently undo buttons one-handed, and then their breasts were pressed together, skin moving against skin with Kate's hand between them. She could touch, she could stroke, she could—when she thought about what _she_ enjoyed— _pinch,_ and that got another little breathless noise. Miss A smiled against her mouth and looked just about as nervous as Kate felt.

Cary Grant and Grace Kelly were facing down on the television, and there was some kind of noise outside, people on the street, but none of that really mattered. It was all about them, warm and together even though it was cold outside, Kate's mouth on Miss A's breasts and then, almost _shyly_ , Miss A's hand sliding up her skirt and tracing along the waistband of her underwear. She nodded as well as she could, given the position of her head, and—

“Uh. We'll. We'll just. We were gonna ask if you guys wanted to come get lunch with us but maybe you can meet us. Um. At the diner. When you're done. If you want to.”

Kate and Miss A's heads fly up, startled, and—Teddy is standing in the doorway to the living room, pop-eyed, face red. Billy's behind him, also flushed and clearly trying not to look curious. From behind them in the hall there's a rustling noise, too, and then Tommy jostles in, saying, “What's _taking_ you guys so— _whoa._ ” And there's Noh-Varr with him, who unlike Billy isn't even _trying_ to hide his curiosity.

Nobody says anything for a minute, and then Miss A shifts, but since she hasn't moved her hand out from under Kate's _skirt,_ that makes Kate sort of _squeak,_ and _that_ makes Tommy sort of grin, desperately awkward, and say, “So we were going to ask if you wanted to join us for lunch but maybe _you'd_ like company?”

Finally Billy snaps out of his half-horrified, half-fascinated stare to say, “Oh my _god,_ Tommy.”

And Kate, suddenly furious, reaches for one of the PS3 controllers and whips it at Tommy's head. Startled, Tommy catches it and blows it up on instinct, and Kate, Miss A, and Teddy all _simultaneously_ say, “You're replacing that.”

Miss A hisses through her teeth, takes a deep breath, and shouts, “Out!”

The boys tumble out of the room in a hurry, pulling the door shut behind them, Noh-Varr saying something in Kree that makes Teddy laugh hysterically and Billy and Tommy both say, “What?”

Bras and shirts go back on in a hurry, and Kate adjusts her shirt, blushing furiously. “I'm sorry, they're _such_ idiots—”

Miss A cuts her off with a kiss, grinning. “We'll make them buy us lunch.”

“Good plan. Do, uh, do you want to have dinner with me? There's this place I've been wanting to try, this new Caribbean fusion place, and then. And then maybe we can pick this up again when we're somewhere more private.”

“That sounds good to me.”

Kate beams at her. “All right, then. C'mon, bubblegum, let's go get a free lunch.”

“After you, rich girl.”


	3. Marvels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carol Danvers gets a call from the son of an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written for my friend [Ardatli](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardatli), whose work on her Carol Danvers hoodie kept Carol always at the forefront of my mind.

Carol's phone rings, and she doesn't recognize the number. It's a strange occurrence, uncommon enough to be surprising, and she picks up with a puzzled, “Hello?”

The voice on the end of the line sounds familiar, but she can't pinpoint it. “Um...Colonel Danvers?”

“That's me. Who's this?”

“It's, uh. It's Teddy. Teddy Altman. Hulkling.”

 _Not_ what she was expecting. Not unwelcome, but not expected—the Young Avengers don't, she thinks, really have much reason to like her. She smiles, even knowing that he can't see her “Teddy! What's up?”

“Well, um, I got your number from Captain, I mean Mr, I mean I got your number from Steve. Captain America. And there were some things I wanted to talk to you about so I was wondering if maybe we could. Um. Meet up some time.”

He sounds nervous in a way that would normally make Carol think he was planning on asking her out. That seems _unlikely,_ given the characters involved, but anything can happen. “Sure, Ted. What'd you want to talk about?”

“Um.” There's a long pause, and she starts to worry that he's hung up when he says, “...you knew my father, right?”

Oh. _That._ “What's your schedule like today?”

“I—really? I'm free. It's Saturday. I don't have a shift.”

“Meet me at Madison Square in half an hour? I'll buy you a milkshake.”

“...ok.”

“Also, you can call me Carol.”

\--

They get ice cream at Shake Shack and walk around the park, and the first thing she says, after they've been moving for ten minutes is, “You look a lot like him.”

He goes a little pink. “I do?”

“Yeah.” She grins at him and brushes a lock of hair out of his face. “His hair was always a mess too. And he could never understand the human fascination with hairbrushes, he said they were weird. No piercings, of course.” A pause, and her grin gets wickeder. “None that I ever saw, at least, and I got to see most of him.”

Teddy chokes on his milkshake.

Once she's done pounding on his back and they've started walking again, she says, “He was...he was a good man. Sometimes he was so good it was almost frustrating. He was noble, and brave, and kind, and he hated bullies. The best man I ever knew. It was sort of hard to live up to. Like loving the sun, or Mount Everest. He _radiated_ peace.”

Teddy glances over at her shyly. “My mom always said he was the greatest man she'd ever seen.”

“Well, maybe not the _greatest._ ” Carol laughs. “But definitely the best.”

They walk for a bit more in silence, and then he says, “But...what was he _like?_ What did...what did he _do?_ Did he like to read? Did he like to talk? Did he have hobbies?”

“Well...” She thinks about it. “Strawberries. He loved strawberries, especially those tiny wild ones you can find in fields sometimes. He liked to read philosophy, and he had this thing where he used to drag me to all these religious services, any kind he could find. He thought they were fascinating. And he _loved_ watching _Twilight Zone_ reruns, they were the funniest thing to him. He'd sit there for hours watching _Twilight Zone_ marathons and just laughing and laughing.” The image of it in her mind almost makes her steps falter. “He had a great laugh.”

Teddy takes a sip of his milkshake. “...I like strawberries. But I actually prefer _Outer Limits._ ”

“See? You'd have something in common, _and_ something to argue about.” They stop next to a tree, and she shifts awkwardly. “Look, I...I don't really know how to do the whole 'cool aunt' thing, if that's what you were hoping for.”

“No, not really. I just...I met the _other_ one. The Skrull. But it wasn't _really_ him, it was a _Skrull,_ and I mean, _I'm_ a Skrull, but that doesn't mean I just want to...it's hard to ask people. And nobody ever wants to tell me about him. I don't think most of them even remember.”

His face crumples just a little bit, and it's a look that she recognizes. It's the look that people make when they're not crying, when they're not going to cry but they feel like they should. This isn't really something she's comfortable with handling, but she's _here,_ right now, and so she hugs him, and he hugs her back and is frustratingly taller than her.

So after a moment she mentions it. “Stop being taller than me.”

“Well, ok, if you want me to—”

“Oh, shit, right, you actually _can_ stop being taller than me. No, don't bother. Doesn't that mess with your clothes?”

“They're, uh, mostly morphed on.”

“Huh. Wow. That must be convenient.”

“It really is. I never have to go shopping.”

She looks up at him, and he grins awkwardly, and she says, suddenly, “You should come fly with me sometime.”

“What, like, _flying_ flying?”

“Not quite what I meant. Ever been up in a fighter jet?”

\--

They make some plans, and a few days later she shows up at what he called the “lair” and knocks. The Kree kid, Noh-Varr, answers the door, and for a moment it looks like things are going to get awkward, but then he _salutes_ her, and she relaxes a little and salutes back. “So, uh, I hear congratulations are in order.”

He looks confused for a moment. “They are? Oh. Right, yes. Marriage. Thank you, Captain Marvel.”

“You can call me Carol, you know.” Behind him she sees Teddy, who waves to her. “Ready for our hot date, Altman?”

“Hi, Carol! In a second!”

He disappears into another room for a moment, hunting for his shoes, and Carol and Noh-Varr stand in the front hall, awkwardly silent, until suddenly the tension gets to be too much and _she_ says, “So I think I might have misjudged—” while _he's_ saying, “It's good to see someone taking up the—”

They both stop talking, look at each other, and laugh nervously, and then she holds out a hand. “Truce? I won't say friends, let's give that a chance to happen later.”

He nods and shakes hands with her and says, “Truce.”

Then Teddy's out with them again, shoes located, pulling his jacket on and grinning. He stops short when he sees them shaking hands, and then grins wider. “So are we doing this?”

They fly to the airfield the _other_ way, which is fun. It's nice to have company. At the airfield Carol gets everything taken care of and gets into her flight suit, and when she comes back out ready to rock Teddy hasn't changed. She almost gets annoyed with him, but then he peers at her for a moment and morphs into a perfect regulation outfit. She rolls her eyes and tosses him a helmet. “Show-off. You need to teach me how to do that.”

“We could get you some kind of...blood transfusion, maybe? And then I wouldn't be the only Kree-Skrull hybrid on Earth.”

“That might be something to think about. Come on, let's go frighten some birds.”

They get all settled in the jet she's picked for today, and she runs the starting checks, and as they're getting ready for take-off she shouts into her mic, “So! You like to fly?”

“Yeah!” She can see him grinning like a maniac out of the corner of her eye. “When I was little I wanted to be a fighter pilot, but my mom said no! She said it was for some health reason, but I think it was because she didn't want to see what might happen if I was in the military when I found out I was a Skrull!”

“Not a bad thought! People freak out about Skrulls!”

Then they're off the ground and in the air, and for a few minutes it's all about _flight._ When she risks a glance at Teddy, he's staring out at the clouds, eyes wide, and it's not like she ever forgets why _she_ loves this, but seeing it from other people is still a kind of reminder.

After a minute the headset in her helmet crackles again and Teddy says, “It's different, isn't it. Doing this. When you can get up here by yourself.”

“Yeah.” They're stitching a line through the sky now—the flight plan she filed pretty much boiled down to “stupid plane tricks”—and it feels like home. “I don't know if I could describe it for you, Ted. But it's different. In some ways I think I like it better.” More stupid plane tricks, and she says, “You said you wanted to be a fighter pilot when you were little. So what do you want to be now?”

“An artist.” He beams when she glances back at him. “I want to draw comics, but other illustration stuff would be cool too. I like to paint. That's what I'm going to school for.” Then he bites his lip, shifting. “Do...do you think he'd approve? If he was alive?”

Carol thinks about it, and the more she thinks about it, the more she thinks... “He'd be thrilled.”

“Really? You think so?”

“I think it'd make him really happy to know that you picked art over the military. He'd be proud of you. Hell, I'm career Air Force and _I'm_ proud of you. _Make_ things. Be one of _those_ people. The world always needs more art.” She can see Teddy's face reflected a little on the windscreen, and the mood in the cockpit is suddenly solemn. “Anyone would be proud to have you as a son, kid. And especially him.”

There's a long silence, and then he says, “Thank you. That. That means a _lot._ To hear that from you. Thank you.”

“Well. _Sure._ You're a hell of a guy. ...so, uh, wanna see me do a barrel roll?”

“Oh my _god_ yes.”

When they finally land the plane again they're both smiling, and Carol goes to get changed. Teddy doesn't have to change, of course, he can just shapeshift into other clothes because life isn't always fair. She _really_ needs to learn how to do that with something besides her costume. It would be _so_ convenient.

While they're getting their helmets put away a mechanic she knows and likes walks past and says, cheerfully, “You fly like you drive, Masshole.”

“Whadda you know about driving, you hick? You didn't see a car until you were thirty. You were born on a fishing boat.”

“A- _yuh._ And they cut the cord with a lobster claw.” The mechanic grins at them. “So who's your hot friend?”

Carol rolls her eyes. “His name is Teddy, and he's married, gay, and _way_ too young for you.”

“Aw, you just made that all up to scare me off. What is he, your cousin? Why are you holding out on the hot cousin bounty?”

Teddy blushes vividly and holds up his left hand, and the light glints off his wedding band. “Well, the, uh, the first two are actually true. I can call my husband if you want proof. Although of course I don't know about the third one, ma'am.”

Carol howls with laughter, and the mechanic makes a face, although she still looks cheery. “Ok, you called me ma'am, I _know_ you're too young for me. Can you even _drink_ yet?”

“Not for another two years.” He grins at her. “Ma'am.”

“You cheeky little asshole.” She whacks him on the shoulder. “I _like_ your hot cousin, Cheeseburger. You should bring him around more often.”

As the mechanic walks off, Teddy looks at her and says, “Cheeseburger?”

“It's...it's a _very_ long story. So let's go get lunch.”

They fly back to the city and get the biggest, greasiest, orange-est pizza they can find. It's so big that they end up having to put it on the next table and take slices as they're needed. Teddy is flushed and cheerful and looks almost _upsettingly_ like his father, and Carol finds that she likes it. Not in a creepy way. It's just...sweet.

Teddy folds his pizza slices in half and is through three of them by the time she's done with her first. He eats like a teenager, and also sort of like Mar-Vell, and also sort of like a true New Yorker, in a way that's simultaneously adorable and horrifying. The grease from the cheese stains his fingers, and it is _gross._ It's cute, and it's gross. She sort of wants to ruffle his hair.

Instead she says, “Have _you_ ever wanted to be Captain Marvel?” Which wasn't what she'd been planning on saying, at any point, but it just came out.

He falters in the middle of reaching for another slice of pizza. “But _you're_ Captain Marvel.”

She shrugs. “Well, yeah. And being Captain Marvel is pretty awesome. But I can't do _everything._ We could do like your friend Kate and Clint do, sometimes. Share it. We could both be Captain Marvel.”

He stares at her for a moment and then says, “I. Well. Thank you? But...I don't think so. Not yet.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I'm sure. I don't know how much longer I want to be Hulkling.” He takes a long slurp of his soda. “But I don't think I'm ready to be Captain Marvel yet. Although don't get me wrong, I'm _really_ flattered. Like, I think I might have a heart attack. I don't know if I _can_ have a heart attack, I don't actually know a ton about my own biology, but I might die. Of joy. Or possibly squee, I think I'm allowed to squee, I'm a nerd. That's why I'm talking a lot, am I talking too much? I should stop.” He has some more soda and stares down at his hands, red to the tips of his ears.

“It's all _right,_ Ted. Chill out.” She leans across the table and flicks one of his earrings. “So no Captain Marvel yet, but you _are_ thinking about changing. What do you want to be?”

He shrugs. “Not sure, really. But I think I'm a little old to be Hulkling. _You_ were Ms. Marvel, so...” Something funny seems to strike him, and he chuckles. “I could be _Mr._ Marvel.”

In hindsight, maybe she should have put down her soda, because she almost chokes on a mouthful of Sprite. “You _can't._ That makes it sound like you're supposed to be some kind of...I don't know, man candy or something. I don't have man candy.”

“I could wear little trunks and a gold bowtie...”

“I _refuse_ to let you be my beefcake sidekick.”

“Paint that spiky 'S' thing on my chest...”

“Kid, I will kick your ass, I swear to God.”

“No, you won't.”

“Says who?”

“Well, if you kick my ass then Billy would be sad. And that's just like kicking a puppy.”

“True. Your little wizard guy is pretty adorable.”

“Isn't he?” And Teddy grins at Carol, and licks pizza grease off his fingers, and dammit.

He looks just like his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know...Noh-Varr and Carol don't have the best history together. I figure, well, they're both trying to be polite, right? For Teddy's sake.
> 
> And, from Tumblr:
> 
> " **Notes for my non-US based readers** : A Masshole is a resident of the great state of Massachusetts, typically one who’s on vacation or otherwise out of state. Carol Danvers is canonically from Boston, and is thus at least in theory the Massholiest of Massholes. “Ayuh,” on the other hand, is an old-school colloquialism from rural Maine; this mechanic is a dreadful hick. Mehehe.
> 
> I, being from New Hampshire, am inherently superior to both of them. Live free or die, bitches. ^_^"


	4. Interrupting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Miss America go flying together, make out on top of a building...and get interrupted again. With special guest the Superior Spiderman!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was just a funny idea.

“Katie, _querida,_ this is _not_ aerodynamically sound.”

“Of _course_ it isn't. The human body isn't designed to fly.” Kate grins against her girlfriend's ear. “But we're flying anyway, despite all scientific research to the contrary, so I think I'm perfectly justified in doing _this._ ” And the ear is _right_ there, so she sticks her tongue in it.

Miss A jukes to one side, sort of laughing and gasping at the same time. “You're going to make me _crash,_ baby.”

“Oh, please. You've traveled across worlds, rescued tiny In-Betweeners, and managed to survive one of Tommy and Noh-Varr's fights with your hearing intact. I'm sure you can survive this,” this being, now, a hand creeping over to where Miss A's t-shirt has pulled away from her shorts and left a strip of stomach exposed.

“You've got a lot of confidence in my flying ability.”

“I have a lot of confidence in _you._ ”

“Hm. Well, then I guess that makes it ok.”

“It better. I don't want you to _decide_ to drop me.”

Miss A goes into a sudden plummet, and Kate screams, startled, but the scream turns into laughter when they pull up again and turn one loop-de-loop, then another and another until they're both dizzy and they have to land on a nearby rooftop. They stumble a bit before finding their footing, both pink from wind and good humor, and then Miss A grabs Kate's shoulders and pushes her back against the flagpole. “Payback time, rich girl.”

Kate shrieks with laughter when Miss A starts to tickle her, batting ineffectually at her hands as hair blows around their faces in the wind. It's _very_ windy, actually, and tickling becomes a grab to stop Kate from falling in a particularly hard gust, and then—well. She's pink-cheeked and beautiful and happy and her mouth is _right there._

“Mm.”

There are a lot of things you learn when you start saving the world at the age of fourteen, but how to have fun isn't really one of them, no matter what Null and Barnell and Angel used to say. Being a hero isn't about having fun. Mostly it's about being angry.

 _Fortunately for me, though,_ Miss A thinks, _I've got this girlfriend now. She knows how to have fun_ and _be angry._

They're pretty well-occupied when they hear a noise behind them, and when Miss A turns to look she sees Spiderman come swinging in from the left and—stutter his landing, skipping across the rooftop and almost falling off the opposite edge before catching himself. Kate stifles a laugh. Spiderman stares at them for a moment and then says, “I...ah. Ladies. I'm. I'm interrupting.”

“Maybe a little.” Kate looks even more full of laughter than before. “What's up, Spiderman?”

“I...one of you is Hawkeye.”

“That's me.”

“Excellent. And I don't believe I've been introduced to...?”

“This is Miss America. Missy, this is Spiderman.”

Spiderman seems surprised, and he peers at Miss A for a moment. “You don't look like...ah. Never mind. And.” He pauses. “And you two. Are...?” He makes an only slightly coherent gesture.

Miss A straightens a little bit. “Yeah. Do you have a _problem_ with that?”

“No! No, of course not, it's good to see two young...look, I need Hawkeye. For an Avengers problem. But it's not urgent. And you were. Busy. So. Ah.” He stares at them for another moment and then fumbles at the neck of his costume and pulls off a small, generally spider-shaped robot, setting it down on the roof next to their feet. “Here. Spider drone. Just...tap twice on its head when you're...done.”

Then he swings off, muttering in puzzled tones about “the love that dare not speak its name.”

Kate stares after him and then says, “Ok, he's gotten _really_ weird lately.”

“Has he? I don't really know the guy at all.”

“Well, neither do _I,_ but there was that whole _thing_ with Doctor Octopus escaping, I _know_ you heard about it, and I've run into him a few times since then and he's been _really weird._ Completely different. Kind of a jerk, actually, and that's the strangest thing because he was always so sweet the other times I got to see him. You know I caught him playing _Halo_ or something with Luke Cage once? He was hanging from the ceiling to play. It was adorable. ...that thing is watching us.”

Carefully, delicately, Miss A picks the little robot thing up and turns it around so that its many eyes point away from them. “Why is it that whenever we start getting anywhere interesting we get interrupted?”

“I don't know.” The corners of Kate's mouth twitch, and she looks full of mischief. “Why don't we get back to where we were going and test that theory?”


	5. Spur Of The Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "perkymcskittles asked:
> 
> I think this might might be what you’re looking for… Characters: Billy/Teddy and Tim/Kon. Concept: Spell goes awry - Billy/Teddy in DCU. Foursome, anyone? NSFW. Thanks! :)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You saw the prompt, right? So, SO NSFW.

“Oh my god _stop_ it. That tickles.”

Teddy grinned up at him from his spot at the foot of the bed and ran a finger slowly up his instep. “This is _educational,_ Bee. Strange _did_ say that you need to learn how to do magic when you're distracted.”

“I don't think he meant for you to _tickle_ me, though.”

“Too bad. So, take us to the living room.”

Billy took a shuddery breath and nodded, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of fingers on the soles of his feet. “O-ok...just, gimme a...”

He focused as best he could, and the world went blue.

“—on, Con, you _know_ you can do it. Just focus on the nightstand and— _what?_ ”

Not a voice he knew. He looked up just as Teddy said, “This...isn't the living room.”

It _definitely_ wasn't the living room. In fact, it was another bedroom, a little more spacious than theirs and decorated with a lot of posters for rock groups. A surfboard hung on the wall, a television sat next to the window with an Xbox 360 underneath it, and there were two other boys, probably the same age as them, sitting on the bed. The larger boy had one hand on the nightstand, and the smaller one was perched on the footboard, frozen in the act of...

...tickling the larger boy's feet.

There was a long, frozen moment, in which they all stared at each other.

Then, simultaneously, Billy said, “Oh my god you're Tim Drake,” and the boy at the foot of the bed said, “Oh my god you're Billy Kaplan.”

And, again together, “And is that...? It _is._ Cool.”

And Tim hopped off the end of the bed and sat on the carpet next to Billy, and they started talking animatedly.

The other two, finding themselves suddenly left out of the conversation, glanced at each other, grinned awkwardly, and said, in perfect unison, “You know, this isn't even the weirdest thing to happen to me this month.”

Beat.

“Ok, no, _now_ it's the weirdest.”

Another beat, and then they both laughed nervously, and Teddy held out a hand. “So. Uh. I'm—”

“Hulkling, right?”

“Well, yes, but...I'm Teddy.”

“Right, I remember. Tim has comics about you. Not that I've read them.” They shook hands. “I'm—”

“Superboy.”

“Yeah. Although, uh, I think you're good to go with Conner. Given, uh...”

“Given the circumstances, yeah. _We_ have comics about _you._ ”

“No shit?”

“Oh, yeah.” Teddy stood up from the floor and sat down on the bed when Conner shifted over and gestured. “ _Teen Titans_ is one of my favorites. At leaat, it was pre-New 52. Not so sure about the new stuff.”

“Big fan of _Young Avengers_ myself. Or, uh, I would be.” Conner coughed uncomfortably. “If I read comics.”

Another pause, and then Teddy said, “So, are you two...”

“Um. Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

“I _knew_ it.”

“Really? Because I didn't until, like, four months ago.”

“Well, good for you. It took me a while to figure out that Billy was even _gay,_ let alone interested. And then it turned out that he'd been having the same problem.”

“Pretty much how it went with us, but Steph told us.”

Teddy had to cover his mouth to hide his laugh. “Oh my god, really?”

“ _Oh_ yeah.” Conner grinned. “She and Cassie talked it over, and then she threw us a party. We were the only guests. The cake said 'Suprise! Get a clue!' on it. Then she locked the door behind her.”

Teddy dissolved into helpless laughter.

When he'd regained his composure, Billy and Tim were still talking. By this point they'd gotten paper and pencils and were apparently diagramming something out, and their foreheads almost touched over it. It looked like they'd been friends for their entire lives. Actually, it looked weirdly like they were _more_ than friends, like there was some flirtation going on here at a level the other two weren't quite getting. The air practically _sizzled_ around them.

After a moment Conner leaned over and said, “So I'm getting a little worried here. It kinda looks like we're about to lose our boyfriends.”

Teddy blushed. “We're married, actually.”

“Oh, no shit, dude? Congratulations.”

They shook hands again, and then Teddy said, “But yeah. They look like they're about to have a sexy pillowfight or something.”

Conner watched the other two for a moment and then nodded slowly. “If there's a sexy pillowfight I vote we make popcorn.”

“Popcorn sounds good.”

A pause to watch Billy and Tim talk, and then Conner said, with clearly strained nonchalance, “So...when did you know? I mean, if that's too personal, don't answer, but I haven't really, I mean...there aren't really people around here I can talk to. About that.”

Teddy blinked. “When did I...oh. _Witchblade._ ”

“ _Witchblade?_ The TV show or the comic?”

“The TV show. Oh my god Ian Nottingham. I was _obsessed_ with him.”

“He _is_ really...” Conner trailed off, staring shocked into space for a moment, and then said, “ _Dude._ That suddenly explains a _lot._ I...I feel _dumb_ now.”

“What just clicked? Was it the fuck-me eyes or that thing where he moves like a tiger?”

“Why did it take me so long to figure this shit out?”

“Welcome to the fold.” Teddy patted Conner on the shoulder. “You'll be checking out hot guys on television for the rest of your life. Seriously, though, do you think we should...separate them or something?”

“Maybe? Tim?”

Tim didn't answer. He was bent over a fresh sheet of paper, rapidly sketching something that looked suspiciously like a redesign of Billy's costume. Billy, meanwhile, was drawing a quick series of alternate Red Robin symbols, while their relationship diagram of the X-Men lay forgotten by his elbow. Neither one of them paid even the slightest heed to the several attempts the other two made to catch their attention, having already mostly tuned out their conversation.

It was when they fell _silent_ that the two on the floor became suspicious. They paused in their drawing and looked up.

Teddy and Conner were _kissing._

It wasn't _much_ of a kiss, as kisses go. They hadn't even moved closer together on the bed, just leaned towards each other, mouths pressed together close-lipped and chaste. Billy felt a blush creeping up his cheeks, and while Tim _wasn't_ blushing, he'd suddenly begun to drum on his knees with the fingers of his left hand.

Teddy opened one eye, saw them staring, and said, “Ha! I _knew_ that would get their attention!”

Tim didn't quite _blink._ His eyes _flickered._ “If you'd wanted my attention, you could have just tapped me on the shoulder.”

Conner shrugged. “You hate being tapped on the shoulder. This was quicker. And funnier.”

Somehow, though, the entire atmosphere of the room had changed. While it had previously maintained a fairly standard level of suppressed sexual tension for a room full of attractive men in their late teens, now it practically _hummed._ That wasn't even a metaphor, Billy thought, since he was pretty sure that if he concentrated enough he'd actually be able to hear it, buzzing around the room. He'd never really considered how he'd react to seeing Teddy kiss someone else—the possiblity, while it _did_ exist, was so remote as to be practically unimaginable, and _this_ situation was so ridiculous that it would never have occurred to him at all. But here he was, in a place that up until half an hour ago he'd always assumed was entirely fictional, and _Teddy had just kissed Superboy._

He couldn't figure out what the bigger emotion was: being pissed off because Teddy had kissed someone else, or being more turned on than he'd ever been in his entire life.

Tim was apparently having a similar problem, at least going by the rate of his drumming, and the room was at this point so quiet that it had reached an entire new _level_ of silence, an unquiet stillness that resonated powerfully with _want_ and _need_ and _this whole situation is completely insane._

Teddy and Conner were starting to look concerned, and Teddy finally said, “Bee? You mad at me?”

Billy shook his head, slowly. It was hard to breathe, and from what he could see, he wasn't the only one having trouble.

A pause, and Tim leaned forward and murmured in Billy's ear, “Turnabout is fair play. I'm going to kiss you. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

Tim Drake's mouth, an abstracted part of Billy's mind observed, tasted like secrets and darkness and way too much healthy living, and he kissed like kissing was a puzzle to be solved or a question that needed answering. Billy sat shocked for a moment before raising a hand and taking hold of the front of Tim's shirt, and past the roaring in his ears he could hear Conner saying, “Holy shit check my pulse. I am. I'm pretty sure we're dead. We're dead and we've gone somewhere _awesome.”_

Rustling, and, from Teddy, “No, no, definitely not dead. Possibly crazy. But not dead.”

“Is it just me or was that _incredibly_ hot?”

“It's not just you.”

When Tim pulled back and they could both breathe, Billy considered the situation and then said, with something that felt suspiciously like recklessness, “ _I_ think that in the interests of greater dimensional togetherness we should do that again.”

Tim grinned and said, “I'm in favor of greater dimensional togetherness. I've always wondered what it would be like to, ah...”

“Establish diplomatic relations with a comic book character?”

“That, yes. And experimentation is a healthy part of any relationship.”

“True. ...you spend a lot of time talking to Starfire, don't you?”

“A fair amount. She's very sensible about a lot of things.”

On the bed, Conner glanced over at Teddy and said, slowly, “Are they saying what I think they're saying?”

And Teddy said, sounding dazed, “I think they're saying they want to...I mean, _I'd_ be cool with that. That's. That's cool.”

After a pause, Conner said, “Yeah. That _is_ cool. I mean, how many chances like this do you _get?_ ”

But they still sat there, nervous and frozen, until Billy looked up at Teddy with an expression that just said, “may I?” while beside him Tim did the same to Conner.

Teddy and Conner looked at each other and swallowed hard, and then they both nodded.

This time it was Billy reaching for Tim, wrapping his hand around the back of the other boy's head and pulling him forward into a hungry kiss. Conner hissed, leaning towards them, and Teddy felt a flush rise in his cheeks. Watching Billy kiss someone else, someone attractive and interesting (and who also looked a _little bit like him,_ not that Teddy _ever_ though about the whole _twins_ thing), made him feel...twitchy. Like, maybe he wanted to punch someone, but at the same time he didn't ever want to stop seeing what he was seeing.

His heart rate was through the roof. His jeans felt too tight. He shifted, and his shoulder bumped Conner's, and they looked at each other, and Conner was blushing too.

“So...” he said, throat dry.

Conner said, “Yeah. That's...”

They leaned toward each other, shy in a way they hadn't been when it had just been a peck, a joke to get the attention of the two who were now kissing with some passion in the middle of the carpet. Their lips met and parted once, again, there was this faint hint of _someone's_ tongue, and then, with the kind of synchronicity that had been funny earlier and was now somehow unbearably sexy, each one reached for the other and the room started to seem very _warm._

After a moment they parted for breath and Conner said, “Dude, you are _heavy._ ”

“It's an alien thing.”

“Oh, right. I know how that goes.”

“Gay aliens of the superhero community, represent?”

“How did you end up on top of me, anyway? Did I float you here, or did you get up here yourself?”

“Honestly, I'm not sure.”

“I think it was a little bit of both.” That was Tim, who was suddenly, _suddenly_ next to them, crawling onto the foot of the bed with Billy close behind them. “So you _can_ use your TTK effectively when you're distracted, which is good to know, given that was what we were practicing. Anyway, _I_ think you should kiss him again. And then, after that, kiss me.”

Conner stared at him breathlessly. “You really want to do this?”

It was Billy who answered. “Well, we figured...it would be fun. And if there's anyone we can do this with who isn't going to judge us about it...”

“It's easier to be with other capes. We can trust each other.”

“What Tim said.”

“Although I'm mildly concerned that there might be some kind of pollen in effect here. I should check the air vents.”

“Here, um, allow me.” Billy muttered rapidly to himself, and his eyes glowed blue for a moment as a wash of light spread out to cover the room. Conner winced, startled, and then Billy said, “Nope. No pollen. I think we're all just...teenagers.”

“Oh, good. I think I would have been disappointed with any other outcome. This is very exciting.”

“ _I'll_ say.” Billy grabbed Tim again, and they toppled onto the tangle of Conner and Teddy's legs.

Startled, Teddy and Conner shifted to get more comfortable, and when they stopped moving, Tim had somehow ended up mostly in Teddy's lap, and Billy in Conner's. Another shift, and Conner made a noise low in his throat, and in one smooth movement he'd pulled Billy's head back and was kissing him as if his life depended on it.

Teddy sucked in a deep breath and said, “Touch him. He likes being petted.”

Conner slid his hand up the back of Billy's shirt, and Billy moaned, his fingers tightening convulsively on the front of Conner's tee. In Teddy's lap, Tim was watching them intently. His voice, when he spoke, was a bare whisper. “I love seeing him like this.” He was drumming on his knee again. “I think I've always _wanted_ to see him like this.”

“Yeah?” Teddy's throat was dry. “It's a hell of a thing. Never would have expected...”

“To enjoy seeing your lover with someone else?”

“That. Yeah.” Teddy slid his hand around almost absently to press on Tim's abdomen. “Although apparently it has the same effect on him.”

Tim twisted around to look at him, and he was so _light._ He almost weighed less than Billy, but under his hand Teddy could feel muscle definition that Billy didn't have. This was a _fighter's_ body, not a magician's. Teddy wanted to hold him down and feel those muscles shift beneath him, wanted to see if he could taste Billy on the other boy's tongue. And there _was_ more space on the bed that wasn't being occupied.

So that's what he did.

Tim moaned into his mouth, eyes closing, and started unbuttoning Teddy's shirt.

Behind Teddy's ear, Conner said, “This is kind of amazing and messed up.”

Billy laughed. “Could be worse. We could be in costume.”

“That...just blew my mind. I need to think about that for a minute.”

“Well, take your shirt off while you're thinking. Or at least help me with mine.”

Rustling. “Dude, has anyone ever told you that you have _really_ nice legs?”

“R-really? I mean, yes, Teddy has, but...”

“You have nice legs. They might even be better than Tim's.”

_“Mm.”_

Tim made a noise of amused protest and came up for air. “I'm right _here,_ Con—and...you...mm.”

Conner was kneeling up on the bed now, one hand down the front of Billy's jeans and the other cupping the back of his head. There was a faint heat haze around them, which almost seemed to be rising from Conner's skin— _he_ wasn't sweating, but Billy was, his face pressed to Conner's bare shoulder, his breath harsh as he fumbled at Conner's belt. His fingers weren't gripping properly, though, so after a moment Teddy leaned forward and did it for him.

Billy grinned at him and muttered a brief, “Thanks,” before sliding a hand in to cup Conner through his boxers. Tim was watching them wide-eyed, his hands almost absently tightening on Teddy's hips, and he started _rocking,_ and there were too many layers. Too much in the way.

“This is crazy,” Conner said into Billy's hair, his hand still working slowly. “This is. _So_ crazy. But it's _good_ crazy, I like this crazy, I am going to move _into_ this crazy and build a house here.”

“Does he always talk this much when he's...?”

“No, not usually. But this is an unusual situation. Why are you still wearing these pants? I don't think you need to be wearing them anymore.”

“Dude.” Conner tilted his head a bit to look down at him. “If it bothers you then take his pants off. Not like, _nngh,_ not like anyone's is actually naked yet.”

“That...sounds like a good plan? Nakedness, that is. Being naked sounds good.” Tim wriggled down the bed, which was actually starting to feel _way_ too small to have four people on it, and got Teddy's pants open and boxers down at a speed that would have been surprising if he hadn't apparently decided that the next thing to do was to lean up a bit and swallow Teddy's cock.

Teddy jolted, trying not to thrust because that would be _rude._ He twisted his hand in the bedspread instead, gasping, and Conner looked at him and used his grip on the nape of Billy's neck to get Billy to look too. “You like that? You like seeing that?”

Billy blinked dizzily. “Yeah...”

“You should go hard, Teddy. He likes it like that.”

Tim hmm'ed cheerfully in agreement, and Teddy rolled his hips in response and yelped as one leg nearly went off the bed. “Ok, we _don't_ have enough space here. Bee, could you...?”

“Um. I think? Good...good test of my powers while distracted. Conner, do you mind if I...?”

“Do I mind if you what?”

“Make the, uh, the bed bigger.”

“You can _do_ that?”

“Should be able to. I've done it before.”

“Dude, that is _cool._ If you make my bed a decent size I will blow you _twice._ ” He paused, frowning. “Should I stop...?”

“ _God_ no. I think if anything that'd make it _harder_ to concentrate at this point.”

Tim started to laugh, which given that he was still sucking Teddy's cock like his life depended on it had an interesting effect. This time Teddy _did_ start to fall off, but before he could Billy's eyes glowed blue, and suddenly the bed was over twice the size it had been. The room was also noticeably tidier, which nobody commented on, and—everyone's clothes were gone, or rather were on the desk nearby, folded in neat stacks.

“That is _so_ cool. Can I _keep_ you?”

“I, I think my...I think Teddy would object. Lie down, I've always wanted to find out what Superboy tasted like.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“You're a sex symbol. And the sooner you learn to accept that the sooner I can start sucking your dick.”

“Well, when you put it like _that..._ ”

Teddy heard the sound of bodies moving, and then the sort of pleasantly familiar sound of Billy's mouth on a dick, although the fact that it wasn't _his_ dick was still a little mind-blowing. He looked, still working his own hips, and Billy was on his hands and knees with his head between Conner's legs, jerking in a way that suggested that Conner's hand in his hair was having more of an effect than just to hold him there.

And Tim...Tim was _stopping._ Teddy made an only semi-coherent irritated noise, which faded into silence as Tim pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. Then they pulled apart and Tim moved over and got between Billy's legs and started to _lick_ while Teddy crawled over to the nightstand to find the lube. It was his and Billy's preferred brand, which could have been a coincidence or a weird moment of interdimensional confluence or _something,_ but clearly it meant that this was _supposed_ to be happening, right?

Everything had at this point gotten—the most accurate term he could think of was _dreamlike._ Teddy didn't think he'd ever had dreams with quite this level of _detail,_ but this was still the kind of surreal thing that would come up, that after a little more fumbling he was now fucking _Tim Drake,_ who was fucking _Billy,_ and Billy was sucking Conner's cock and shuddering harder and harder.

And then there was this _chain reaction,_ not simultaneous but in sequence, Billy somehow coming first and then Conner arching and shouting with his eyes glowing red, and Tim going suddenly silent and still and _clenching_ around Teddy, who groaned and pressed his forehead into the back of Tim's neck as he spilled.

Getting disentangled was a delicate maneuver, since they were now all feeling a little oversensitized and drowsy, but as it turned out Billy had made the bed not just big but _enormous,_ certainly large enough for them to stretch out side by side, Billy and Tim in the middle with Teddy and Conner hemming them in.

Nobody said anything for a long moment and then Teddy smiled nervously and said, “So. Uh. That escalated quickly.”

Tim nodded. “I'm trying to make more spur of the moment decisions. I think I tend to be overcautious.”

“And Teddy's pretty much always ready to charge in head first.” Billy grinned. “Also, did you seriously just quote _Anchorman?_ ”

Conner's eyes, which had been drifting shut, snapped open. “I _love_ that movie.”

“Me _too._ Like, it _should_ be really stupid and terrible, but somehow it's _not._ ”

Teddy glanced down at Tim. “Are they seriously talking about how much they love _Anchorman_ while we're all naked?”

“They seem to be.” Tim shrugged, and then smiled suddenly. “This was fun. I've always admired you. I mean, I admire your whole team, but I like you particularly.”

“Wait, really? Us? But...you're so _intense._ ”

“I...I suppose I am, but I've always liked your refusal to let yourselves be defined by those who went before you.”

“Well, I've always liked your ability to keep going through awful shit. You persevere.”

Conner leaned back to look at him. “So we're, uh. Going to hang out again sometime, right?”

“I think I need to figure out how to get us _home_ first.” Billy scratched his ear nervously. “But then...I'd be up for it. You, Teddy?”

“Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also got what I think is my favorite tag ever: someone reblogged it with the tag "I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THIS WAS AN OPTION," which made me grin.


	6. On The Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "catherina-rose asked:
> 
> Hi! I’m hoping it’s ok for me to leave you a prompt? I’d love something with Nohmmy - maybe learning new things about each other? To be honest, anything vaguely fluffy would make me happy :) I know it’s not a particularly challenging prompt, apologies! I’m a big fan of your work on AO3 & I’ve loved the 30-Day OTP Challenge :)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is _always_ ok to prompt me.

Billy and Teddy are having dinner with the Kaplans tonight to celebrate Billy's acceptance to NYU. Kate's in Colorado with her sister and her father having “mandatory family bonding time,” which she says means skiing and trying not to argue about too much. Nobody knows what Miss A does when she's not with them, and Tommy had a bad day at the courier service—lots of irritable secretaries, apparently—and then an argument with the lawyer handling his case against the juvenile detention facility.

So Noh-Varr's gone to get groceries. He doesn't have a bank account of his own at the moment, but he has an authorized-user credit card under Tommy's account, so he can pick things up for the lair without anyone having to go with him. He likes to grocery shop, anyway, enough that he's only allowed to do the shopping for them once every two weeks—otherwise the refrigerator and the pantry get filled up with all kinds of bizarre things, because humans eat such a _variety_ of foods, and he wants to try every single one. Some of them (like the tripe) have turned out surprisingly well, but other experiments (like the squid, which he'd _thought_ was fresh) have gone _very_ poorly.

With his enhanced speed and endurance, he can really go anywhere in the city for groceries, so by this time he's got a circuit—this store for fresh produce, that one for dry goods, this butcher, that bodega. He doesn't have Plex anymore, so he can't just absorb all the languages that he encounters by brainstorm, but he's a fast learner anyway, and most of the shopkeepers like him enough to help him a word or two at a time. Each language has its own feeling in his mouth, just like each food does.

Earth. What an extraordinary place.

_Of course if they had fewer languages then it would reduce international conflict, but..._

When he gets back to the lair, a lot of the lights are on, and he can hear music blaring from the stereos in the front room. That's good; at least Tommy isn't sulking in the dark anymore, playing his (sometimes alarmingly xenophobic) alien-shooting video games and muttering about the legal system. Noh-Varr smiles and slips in through the back door. He doesn't need help putting the groceries away, and he did get a bag of those cheesy things Tommy likes—it can be a pleasant surprise.

Tonight's musical choice is some ska band. Noh-Varr doesn't personally care much for ska, but Tommy enjoys it. He likes things that are fast-paced and bouncy when he's not drowning in metal, which Noh-Varr will _never_ understand. Personally he'd rather listen to something a little more melodic.

He puts the groceries away, leaving out a few things for dinner, and then heads out to the living room, snack food in hand, and freezes in the doorway.

Tommy is dancing.

He's not just thrashing around the way people seem to do at the concerts he enjoys, either; he's doing _ballet,_ albeit at an inhumanly fast pace. As Noh-Varr stands in the doorway he whips around in fast pirouettes, feet barely touching the floor, and then leaps over the back of the couch to land on his toes in front of the door.

Facing Noh-Varr.

He stops and turns bright red.

Noh-Varr opens his mouth to speak. “I was—”

“Look, if you're going to make fun of me then do it now so I can punch you and we can get the whole thing over with.”

“Actually I was going to say that that's very impressive. Where did you learn?”

Tommy blinks. “You're not going to freak out because I was doing ballet?”

“No, of course not. I think it's very beautiful. Are you annoyed with me?”

“Oh, right. You have all these weird alien ideas about what guys can do.” His voice is tart, but Tommy actually looks relieved. “Yeah, I started when I was in third grade, when they still thought I just had ADD. The doctor said it'd help if I had something physical to do, but I wasn't allowed to do any sports because I kept getting in fights, and Tae Kwon Do was too expensive.”

“Dance lessons weren't expensive?”

“My mom was friends with the instructor. We got a discount. I took lessons with Anne for years; sometimes I think I miss her more than I miss when my parents weren't crazy.” Tommy shrugs. “And then I went to jail and I never got to pick it up again. Oh, hey, are those Cheetos? Did you bring me Cheetos?”

Now Noh-Varr is definitely confused. The emotional swing from “angry” to “jail” to “Cheetos” is _very_ difficult to follow, and all he can do is hold out the bag, blinking. “So you're not annoyed with me for walking in on you. You looked annoyed at first.”

“You make it sound like I was whacking off. I only would've stayed annoyed if you'd been a dick about it.” Tommy grins at him suddenly. “Come on, it's almost Christmas and I don't think you've ever seen _Die Hard._ ” He grabs Noh-Varr's hand and drags him over to one of the couches.

“What's _Die Hard?_ ” Noh-Varr feels like he's heard the title before, but it's not connecting with anything in his head.

“One of the great films of the twentieth century. What's for dinner?”

“Pasta and meatballs? I was going to make garlic bread.”

“Sounds good.” Tommy pauses in the act of flipping through the DVDs, glances over his shoulder, and says, “So now that you know one of my dark secrets you have to tell me one of yours. Spill. What's something awkward in _your_ past?”

That seems like a fair trade, so Noh-Varr thinks about it, and initially he can't remember anything. Before arriving on this Earth he did a lot of _interesting_ things, but he can't recall anything really _awkward_ in the way that Tommy means it.

Except...

Oh.

Right.

_That._

He shifts awkwardly in his seat and says, “When I was first assigned to the _Marvel_ I was...infatuated with Captain Glory.”

“You had a crush on him.” Tommy finally locates the DVD he was hunting for and pulls it off the shelf.

“He was very...exciting, yes. He was intelligent, and a skilled diplomat, and...and he was _very_ handsome.”

“You had a crush on him. You drew a little heart around his name and yours in your notebook. You dreamed about him taking you to prom.”

“I what?”

“You—it's a cultural thing, I'll explain later. So you had a crush on Captain Glory.”

Noh-Varr rolled his eyes. “ _Yes._ I had a crush on Captain Glory. And I was the ensign, of course, which mainly ended up meaning that I did whatever anyone needed me to do. So one day I was sent to the engine room to keep an eye on something fairly minor, because the ship's engineering team was busy working on a problem with the food systems, and I fell asleep.”

“You fell _asleep?_ ” Tommy's busy with the PS3, but he turns and grins at Noh-Varr, looking delighted. “How do you fall asleep in an engine room?”

“I hadn't eaten much that day and the sound of the engines was actually very soothing. They sang. And I had a...dream. About Captain Glory.”

Tommy pauses in the act of loading the DVD. “Oh my god he's the one who found you, isn't he.”

“Ah. No.” Noh-Varr could feel his cheeks going pink. “The chief engineer found me. But apparently I talk in my sleep. Do I talk in my sleep?”

“You _totally_ talk in your sleep.” Tommy grabs a controller from the top of the DVD shelf and drops onto the couch next to him. “I think this was a good trade. Ballet for awkward captain crushes.”

“Oh, good.” Noh-Varr suppresses a sigh of relief—he wasn't really looking forward to talking about what happened when Captain Glory found _out_ about his...crush. The shoulder-patting, the well-meaning _talk..._ “I should go start the water for the pasta, and then we can watch this movie. What's it about?”

“The meaning of Christmas.” Tommy shifts as Noh-Varr gets up again. “I'll get everything queued up. So does this mean I can make you come see _The Nutcracker_ with me?”

“Is that a ballet?”

“Yep. I think you'll like Tchaikovsky.”


	7. The Scandal Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "Anonymous asked:
> 
> Kate/Miss A/Dick Grayson, 'They want a scandal, we’ll give them one.'"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this may be the best fanfic I've ever written.

Dick hears her before he sees her, the bright laugh of someone who really knows how to work one of these awful parties, and then the crowd parts and there she is. She's resplendent in a violet evening gown that looks like its price must have been measured in diamonds, her shoes could give a weaker man a heart attack, and she's on the arm of another woman, a muscular heartbreaker in a tuxedo.

She sees him and shrieks girlishly, exactly the way the reporters clustered around the edge of the ballroom would expect her to. “Why, Richie Grayson! I haven't seen you in ages!”

He grins at her—again, the way the reporters expect him to, since cameras are already flashing. “Is that Katie _Bishop?_ I didn't know you were going to be at this party!”

They hug, a little longer than would be acceptable for casual acquaintances, and he hisses in her ear, _“Kate, why are you in Gotham? I thought Roy was supposed to be my wingman on this one.”_

She kisses his cheek, tittering giddily, and hisses back, _“Would you believe he got sucked through a hole in the space-time continuum? But you still needed an archer and I was available. Don't worry, I've been briefed.”_

 _“Ok, as long as you know what's going on._ It's so good to see you again! Who's your friend?”

She blushes charmingly, apparently on command, which is a skill Dick wished he had. “Oh, I'm being so _rude!_ Missy, this is Richard Grayson, I've told you about him. Richie, this is my girlfriend, America Chavez.”

The woman in the tuxedo shakes hands with him, smiling uncomfortably. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson.”

“Oh, please, Miss Chavez.” Another dazzling smile—Bruce would be proud of him, or at least he would be if he wasn't pretending to be drunk at a runway show across town. “All my friends call me Richie.”

And now there's a reporter, with photographer in tow, saying, “Mr. Grayson, who are these lovely young ladies you're with?”

“ _Hello,_ Gertie. This is Katie Bishop, her father runs Bishop Publishing, and her girlfriend Miss Chavez.”

“Ooh!” He can see the article forming in Gossip Gertie's head. “Have you known Mr. Grayson long, Miss Bishop?”

“Oh, I've known Richie since I was in _pigtails!_ ”

“ _Rea_ lly.” Gertie looks intrigued—she's not even paying attention to America, which seems to suit both of them just fine, since America's busy scoping out the exits. “So _tell_ me, then, are the rumors true about Wayne Enterprises branching out? Into, say...publishing?”

“Oh, _stop_ it!” Kate blushes on command again and then leans in conspiratorially. “Confidentially, though, I used to have _such_ a crush on him.”

Dick laughs, shooting for something as photogenic as he can manage. “Katie, _stop._ You're _embarassing_ me. I practically used to _babysit_ you.”

America quirks an eyebrow at him, and she smiles a bit, but then it morphs into the kind of vaguely possessive suspicion that the papparazzi _love._ “Well, since there aren't any _mergers_ in the offing, maybe you won't mind if I steal my girlfriend now. Come on, Katie, dance with me.”

“Oh, Missy, nobody _really_ dances at these things.”

For a while they circulate and mingle. The girls dance and laugh and are the hit of the party as they blushingly refuse champagne on the grounds that they're not _legal_ yet, _please,_ and Dick does what he does best. He's the prodigal son, a charming wastrel, _not_ Bruce Wayne's heir apparent but close enough to be exciting and just smart enough to be sweet. Gotham City's second most eligible bachelor. He sweet-talks society matrons, laughs raucously at the jokes of industry kings, flirts with _everybody,_ and generally makes an ass of himself.

Then he gets the signal, and he signals Kate and America, and they make their excuses.

The costumes are stashed in a currently unoccupied room at the hotel—Dick knows someone on the staff. He's not sure how Kate and America got their things in with his, but he's willing to let that lie until later. They suit up, carefully looking everywhere but at each other as evening wear goes off and costumes go on, and they're out the window and flying.

The mission's a beautiful breeze. The kidnappers are still at the scaling-the-walls stage when they reach the brownstone, and when Dick swings in next to them they've already started swearing—they've lost contact with their leader, being taken out by Bruce up-town. Kate pins them down with arrows while he and America have a little chat with them about how _disappointed_ they are to see prominent scientists being harassed by criminals, especially when they're on the verge of making scientific breakthroughs. One of them tries to shoot him, but he dodges, and when the next shot comes America _catches_ it, and he _really_ wants to introduce her to Clark. A third shot, and _that_ shooter is shouting with one of Kate's arrows between the muscles in his hand—he'll use it again, but only if he gets medical attention _fast._

They're a well-oiled machine. It always feels good to have an archer at his back, and a powerhouse in the mix is always welcome.

Gotham PD responds to the 911 call and shows up to find the crooks on the ground, bound and ready to talk. They get most of the kidnappers in cruisers, the guy with the arrow through his hand in an ambulance, and Dick grins. A job well done.

On the way back to the charity ball they pause to stop a mugging, and a camera flashes from a nearby window—a kid with a cheap digital, eyes wide with wonder. Kate blows him a kiss. Dick and America wave.

They're back in through the window of the hotel room and out of their costumes when they hear Gossip Gertie in the hallway saying, “Mr Gra~ayson, where have you _gone?_ ” More than one set of footsteps, too, so she's not alone.

Actually, there are a _lot_ of people with her.

Are they trailing every papparazzo in the city?

He hears one of them whisper, “This door is open. Think they're in there?”

Kate and America glance at each other, and then at him, and all three of them nod as Kate says, “They want a scandal, we'll give them one.”

She kicks their costumes into the closet and closes it while America dives into the bed, pulling Dick with her. It's the work of a second to wreck the sheets so that it looks like they've been in it the whole time, and just for effect Kate scatters their neatly folded clothes on the floor next to the bed before climbing in next to them and _right_ into Dick's lap.

He's...honestly glad that they're all still wearing underwear.

Then she grins, puts on her society voice, and says, “Oh, _Richie!_ ” as the hotel room door bursts open.

The photos make for one hell of a front page the next day—America with her hair mussed, staring wide-eyed at the camera while Dick tries frantically to pull the sheet up over himself and Kate, who's blushing like a schoolgirl in his lap. The headlines on the tabloids scream, “WAYNE PRODIGAL CAUGHT IN A CLINCH!” They're the talk of the town.

And then there's the photo making the rounds on Tumblr, rows of “OMG did this really happen?” and “that's AMAZING” and “this looks shopped” under the triumphant photo of them standing over the downed mugger, waving to the camera.

NIGHTWING/HAWKEYE.

“Who's that third girl? She's so hot.”

“Are they going out?”

“Is this a thing now?”

“omg Miss America/Hawkeye/Nightwing is my new OT3. Can we call it American Nighthawk?”

And in the room that's always his at Wayne Manor, Dick straightens his tie before going downstairs to meet the girls at breakfast before they head out again.

Kate winks at him. “Last night was fun.”

America's smiling a secret smile. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Only, maybe without the costumes.”


	8. The Clint Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate finally, _finally_ takes her new girlfriend to meet her...uh...Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also just a random idea.

“Why'm I so nervous? Meeting your _dad_ was fine. Meeting your sister was _great—_ ”

“Yeah, I think _she_ practically wanted to ask you out—”

“But _this._ Meeting your...teacher...brother...friend...”

“I don't think any of those are really accurate. Let's just say he's my...Clint and leave it at that.”

“Yeah. Meeting your...thing. And I mean, you know what my life's been like. But _this_ is what I get nervous about?” Miss A stares up at the apartment building, biting her lip. “That is just _weird._ ”

“Well, Clint is sort of special. It's hard to explain. Come on, let's go in.”

They let themselves in and head up to Clint's apartment, nodding to a few of the building's other residents as they go by. At one point Miss A even stops, conversing rapidly in Spanish with a woman who apparently recognizes her, and who ends the conversation by laughing delightedly and hugging her. Kate raises an eyebrow. “Someone you know?”

Miss A shrugs. “Yeah, sort of? She says I carried her cousin out of a burning building.”

“Did you?”

“Could be. Done that sort of thing a few times.”

“It's so cute when you say that like it's nothing.”

“I live to amuse you, _querida._ ” Miss A flashes a quick smile at her. “Are we there yet?”

“Yeah, this is his place.”

The first to greet them at the door is actually the dog, who wags his tail delightedly when Kate scratches his ears and then stops, looking at Miss A with some suspicion. When she holds her hand out he sniffs it, sneezes monumentally, and then lifts his head in an absurdly regal gesture so that _she_ can get his ears too. She grins. “What's this guy's name?”

“Lucky. Or Pizza Dog. He likes pizza. Hey, Clint, where are you?”

In response there's a clatter and a noise that sounds like it would be words if something hadn't just fallen on the speaker's head. Kate half-laughs and half-sighs as she heads to the bedroom, Miss A and the dog trailing behind her.

They find Clint sitting on the floor, staring forlornly at what appears to be a small avalanche of closet miscellanea. He doesn't look up at first; he just says, “You know, this whole thing would be a lot better if I could remember what I was looking for.”

“I'm sure you'll remember eventually.” Kate helps him to his feet. “Missy, this is Clint Barton, he's also Hawkeye. Clint, this is my girlfriend, America Chavez.”

He shakes hands, smiling. “Right, yeah, Kate's mentioned—girlfriend?”

Miss A blinks and nods. “That's me.”

“Wait.” He stares at Kate, confused. “You're gay?”

She sighs. “No, Clint. I'm not gay.”

“But...girlfriend.”

“Yes, Clint. I have a girlfriend.”

“Is _she_ gay?”

Miss A nods emphatically, and Kate says, “Yes, Clint. My girlfriend is gay.”

“But you're not.”

“No.”

“I'm confused.”

“Life is confusing. Do we have coffee?”

“I think so?”

“I'll go make coffee.”

She goes and makes coffee, leaving Miss A and Clint standing there at the doorway of the bedroom, and then Miss A says, “Just so you know, sometimes I'm pretty confused by all this too.”

“So it's not just me?”

“Not even a little.”

“Oh, good.” Beat. “I hear you're a punching-things type.”

She nods. “That's me. You shoot bows?”

“Yep. I'm good at bows. So. Um. What are your intentions towards my...uh...Kate?”

“Um.” Miss A seems surprised by the question. She blinks, and then frowns a little, and then says, “I'd like her to be happy?”

Clint looks relieved. “Ok, good. As long as we're both on the same page. If you make her cry I'll...do something. Bad. To you.”

“You've never had one of these conversations before, have you?”

“Not really. You?”

“First time for everything, right?”

“Right. Anyway Kate's very special.”

Miss A looks over at where Kate's making exasperated noises at the coffee machine and smiles. “Yeah. She's definitely that.”

Clint doesn't look at Kate, just at the little upward curve at the corner of Miss A's mouth, and then he nods and says, “So...she calls you Missy?”

“It's a _long_ story. Well, sort of long. Not that long at all, really, but it takes some explaining.”

Kate looks up from where she's gotten the coffee machine working finally and says, “So if you two are done sizing each other up, I had crime-fighting stuff I wanted to talk about.”

Clint and Miss A glance at each other, and then Clint says, “I like crime-fighting. What about you, Miss America Cha— _oh._ Miss America. Missy. I get it.”

She grins. “Big fan of it myself.”

“Sounds like we can be friends, then.”

“Sounds like that to me.”


	9. Builder of Empires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment in Tommy and Noh-Varr's afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this one for [Billywick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick/pseuds/Billywick), who was having a bad day.

Tommy is sitting on the sill of the open window, one leg hanging out to tap against the bricks, and doing his homework. A massive law textbook balances precariously against his raised leg; he flips the pages with a lazy kind of speed. A casual observer would think he was skimming, not really reading at all.

Of course, Noh-Varr is the farthest you could possibly get from that description, especially where Tommy is concerned. _He_ knows that Tommy's reading at a speed that most humans can't even comprehend. Honestly, Noh can't always understand it himself, but then, it's not his first language, and reading _books—_ physical books, printed on _paper—_ is still a little strange for him.

Anyway.

Having no homework of his own, obviously, Noh-Varr is engaged in one of his favorite leisure activities, which is to say that he's watching Tommy. The sunlight, for example, plays off the other man's fine white hair in a way that's a treat to see. The way his head is tilted casts a shadow on his mouth, and the way his shirt pulls up in the back just a bit makes Noh-Varr want to...do things that wouldn't help Tommy get his reading done. Not even _slightly_ conducive to productive study.

Finally, just to say something and to get Tommy's attention, he says, “What are you reading about?”

“Criminal law as it applies to sapient non-humans. Mostly it's case studies. Pretty cool, actually.” Tommy turns the page and then, suddenly, laughs. “Holy _shit,_ babe, check this out. This is _amazing._ ”

“What is?”

Tommy holds up his book so that Noh-Varr can see the picture. “I've had days like that.”

Noh-Varr stares for a moment and then starts laughing, so hard that he almost falls off the bed.

Tommy grins. “I _know,_ right? I want to meet whoever did that. We would _totally_ have stuff to talk about.”

“Almost certainly. In fact I should _hope_ so.”

At the unexpected emphasis Tommy blinks. “Do you know something here that you're not telling me?”

Instead of replying immediately, Noh-Varr gets up and goes to the window, where he traces the five-block “fuck you” in the photo with the tip of one finger before taking the book out of Tommy's hands and setting it aside. “I did that. That was me.”

_“No.”_

“Yes. I did some research to make sure I was using the appropriate phrase, examined a city map, and then...there you go.”

“...ok, you could _not_ be sexier. I think if you get any sexier I'll die.”

“The things that you find attractive about me are continually puzzling.”

“What can I say? I'm a man with needs. Later we can talk about punk rock anarchy and I'll tell you about what happened when I blew up my school.” The speedster tilts his head to one side, and his face is suddenly illuminated as his eyes meet Noh-Varr's. “But anyway, I think I'm done with homework for now.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” He trails a finger down Noh-Varr's chest, smiling slyly. “So what do we talk about now that I'm done working?”

“Well...” Noh-Varr rests one hand on the convenient upraised knee, tips Tommy's chin up with the other, and presses him backwards with a kiss, while the sun beats down warm on their faces. “You could tell me a little more about how sexy you think I am.”

Tommy's hand is sliding up under his shirt even as he says, “Egotist.”

“You like my ego.”

“I never said I didn't. It goes so nicely with mine.”

Later, when they're sprawled on the bed together, enjoying the breeze from the open window across their bare skin, Tommy says, “You never did tell me what happened to you. I mean, I _know_ what happened, but...I don't know _your_ side of the story.”

Noh-Varr shifts up onto an elbow to look down at him. “It's a long story. And I don't know yours either, not really.”

“Mine's not so long.” Tommy shrugs against the bedspread, eyes distant. “I was born. I grew up—in Jersey, too, so fuck Jersey. I blew up my school, _mostly_ by accident. Got arrested and sent to a jail where doctors had my parents' permission to inject me with crap to see if they could make me able to blow shit up at a distance and run me in a hamster wheel to find out my top speed. Shit like that. And then Billy and them busted me out and told me they thought I should be a superhero, and the upshot is here I am with you, and I'm pretty sure there were people on the street outside who could hear us fucking.”

“They were probably jealous.”

“You _bet_ they were. _They_ haven't got any hot aliens.”

Noh-Varr thinks about it for a moment and then says, “Do you want me to tell you what happened to me?”

“Well, _yeah,_ you moron. Yeah, I would. I love you.”

So Noh-Varr tells him.

It takes a couple of hours, and by the time he's done the sun is starting to go down, and neither of them are smiling very much when Tommy says, “So why drop the whole 'new Kree Empire' thing? It seems like a solid plan to me. Nobody knows how to run shit here; it all just ends up in creepy science experiments and boneheaded laws.”

Noh-Varr shrugs. “I didn't give up on it. I just got distracted for a bit. And I think I might have been going about things the wrong way before.” He thinks about it for a moment. “I don't think spite is a very good reason to build an empire, in the long run.”

“Spite's not a good reason for a lot of things.” Tommy rolls into the circle of his arm and leans against his chest. “Really, I should know.”

“You, though. I'd build an empire for you.”

“Mm. Sweet.” Tommy yawns. “Sounds like a plan.”


	10. Hearts, Minds, and Stomachs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "Anonymous asked:
> 
> Could I prompt? Um, how about: It’s time for Teddy to live up to his destiny, become the alien ruler he was born to be, a uniter of worlds… By resolving the epic bitchfight between Xavin and Noh-Varr. So who is in the right over *insert completely ridiculous diverging opinion here*?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wins my personal prize for Silliest Dialogue.

“You will eat the bun. You will eat the condiments. You will eat the _newspaper_ in which it is _wrapped._ But you will not eat the hot dog itself.” Xavin shook his head. “You Kree are _perverse._ ”

“I can eat anything made of organic matter.” Noh-Varr gazed with distaste at the half-eaten hot dog in Xavin's hand. “Once you convince me that _those_ are organic, I'll start eating them.”

“The street vendor hot dog is the finest delicacy ever created on this backwards planet!”

“It's the foulest thing I've ever encountered in _any_ universe. I had one once and it made me _vomit._ Do you know how hard it is to make me throw up?”

“It's really hard,” Tommy muttered to Karolina. He, of course, was on his fifth hot dog already, and had also eaten Noh-Varr's. “And then it solidified and we had to call Reed Richards to help us with containment procedures.”

“ _Containment_ procedures?”

“It was radioactive.”

“Oh my _god._ ”

“No, that's normal. Everything he throws up is. So now we have a special box in the bathroom in case he ever gets sick, and Dr. Richards said he'd pay us.”

Meanwhile, Noh-Varr was saying, “And why is it that whenever I do something that strikes you as strange it's automatically a Kree thing? Am I not allowed to have personal quirks?”

“You refuse perfectly good food, you are argumentative and ill-tempered, and you assume that _everything_ is meant _personally._ You are the most typical Kree I have ever met!”

“I— _typical?_ I'm the _ideal,_ although somehow I doubt you know the meaning of the word.” Noh-Varr snorted. “Granted, I doubt you know what _many_ words mean. You don't even know how to use contractions! Although I suppose it would be unreasonable of me to expect a _Skrull_ to have refined tastebuds.”

“So I am _unrefined? You_ are the one who devoted time and energy to carving curse words across a city!”

“With good reason!”

Xavin had begun to swell intimidatingly, and as a one the rest of the group stepped back from the arguing pair. Tommy buried his face in his hands. “Oh god. They're going to start arguing about racial politics again.”

Kate was already digging in her purse for her earplugs, and Chase was counting down quietly. “Explosion in five...four...three...”

Billy stared at the arguing aliens and then pushed Teddy forward. “Babe, do something.”

Teddy stumbled, startled. “ _Me?_ Why me?”

Eli looked confused too, but then he caught Billy's eye and realization dawned. “Right, yeah. You're the great unifier. Go unify.”

“But...but...”

Behind him Xavin and Noh-Varr were getting louder and louder, and Billy clutched at his sleeve and said, in deadly serious tones, “Teddy. There is strife among your people.”

Nico chimed in with, “As was foretold in the, uh, ancient prophecies.”

“They need you, my friend.” Victor was clearly suppressing a smile.

“Go forth, my brave prince!” Now Billy had gone into full drama mode, hands clasped beneath his chest, eyes shining. “To your destiny!”

Karolina had started choking on her hot dog, and she laughed a hiccupy laugh as Tommy rubbed her back.

Teddy said, slowly, “Just for the record, you all suck, and I hate you.” Then he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, turned to Xavin and Noh-Varr, and said, “Ok, seriously, you two need to chill out.”

“I'm sorry, _I_ need to chill out? _He's_ the one who thinks that my lack of desire to eat filth constitutes some kind of moral failing!”

“ _He_ is the one who believes that he is _above_ me!”

So of course they both started yelling at Teddy.

At this point people were shying away from the hot dog stand, and the vendor was looking increasingly distressed by the loss of custom. The others watched the argument in a combination of fascination and horror.

There was a small, quiet “pop” noise, and then Loki appeared next to Nico's elbow, carrying a large sack. “Hello, I—ooh, what's going on in _this_ thread?”

“Ssh,” Billy said distractedly. “Teddy is unifying.”

He stared with them for a moment, and then turned away from the fight. Kate rolled her eyes. “Loki, what do you want?”

“I—wait.” He peered at Eli closely, his eyes traveling from Eli's face to where his fingers were laced with Kate's. “Who's this?”

“This is Eli. He used to be Patriot. Eli, this is Loki.”

Eli waved with his free hand, eyes still on the fight. “Nice to meet you, Loki. Heard you're a pain in the ass.”

“I _do_ have that honor, yes. If you're not a hero anymore why are you here?”

“Full scholarship to Columbia.”

Loki was still staring at their clasped hands. “...I thought you were going out with Miss A.”

Kate nodded. “I am.”

“Where _is_ she?”

“Earth-530.”

“And _you_ two are...does she know?”

“Yep.”

“And she's...copacetic?”

“I have a big bed.”

“But...that's not normal for humans, is it?”

“Do I _seem_ normal, cosplay boy?”

“Oh.” He frowned, brow furrowing in thought, and then smiled suddenly. He seemed pleased. “In that case, just out of curiosity—”

“No.”

“But I just wanted—”

“No, Loki.”

“I—”

“Loki.” Victor had managed to pull his eyes away from the argument, albeit briefly. “What do you want?”

“Oh yes! Right! Courting rituals!” Loki opened the sack he was carrying and produced an intimidating helmet surmounted with curling horns, which he held out to Molly, beaming. “Miss Hayes! I know chocolate is the normal thing, but I don't know what kind of chocolate you like, so instead I brought you this hat, because you like hats. I stole it for you! From a warrior! Isn't it keen?”

“Wow, you _stole_ something for _me?_ ” Molly took the helmet from him, delighted, and immediately put it on over her other hat. It slid down to cover her eyes, and she grinned. “Thanks, Loki! This is awesome!”

“You like it?”

“It's _great!_ ”

“Will you go out with me?”

She pushed the helmet back up her forehead so that she could see him. “Wait, aren't you, like, a billion years old?”

This seemed to offend him. “Only in _one_ sense. In another sense I'm only...um...five? Or fourteen. So really I'm only two years older than you.”

“Which is also weird.” She paused, looking up at Nico. “Nico, what do I say?”

Nico pondered it. “Tell him you'll think about it.”

Chase reached over and patted Loki heavily on the shoulder. “Just so you know, shortie, you hurt my girl and the gloves go on.”

Loki frowned. “Don't you mean the gloves come off? I think that's the phrase.”

“You haven't seen my gloves.”

By this point everyone's attention had turned to Loki, and to Molly's impressive new hat, which meant that nobody was looking when Teddy suddenly roared, “If you two don't grow the _fuck_ up there is going to be a _fight!_ It will be _right_ here, it will start _right_ now, and I will put _both_ of you through the fucking _street!_ Are we _clear?_ ”

Noh-Varr made a face at him. “I hardly think you could manage to—”

Teddy grew suddenly and significantly larger. “You wanna _try_ me, junior?”

“I—” Noh-Varr actually had to crane his neck to look at Teddy's face. “Not at the moment, no.”

“ _Good._ Now look, you're both my friends, I like you both a lot, but that doesn't mean you get to start an alien race war in the middle of New York City just because you can't agree on who has the bigger alien dick—don't start, Karolina, I love you dearly but if you interrupt my train of thought here I will freak the _fuck_ out. The dicks here are all metaphorical and also, we know. The point _being_ that the one with the biggest metaphorical alien dick here is clearly me—"

(In the background, the others glanced questioningly at Billy, who shrugged and said, “I'm a happy man.”)

“—and if you two don't start acting like adults _right_ now then your lunch will _stop_ being hot dogs and start being _pavement._ ”

“...but I don't _like_ hot dogs.”

“ _Noh-Varr._ We will _get_ you. A _falafel._ ”

“...I like falafel.”

“ _Good._ Now. Xavin. The street vendor hot dog, while a delicious treat, is also when considered sanely one of the most horrifying foods on the planet because of its basic makeup. Agreed?”

Xavin nodded quietly, looking cowed. “Agreed, Dorrek.”

“And Noh-Varr. Xavin has some ingrained prejudices that he's trying to get rid of, but while he's working on that the best way to correct him is quietly and politely and not by yelling at him. Agreed?”

Noh-Varr nodded. “Agreed.”

“All right. Now shake hands and say you're sorry.”

“Which one of—”

“ _Both_ of you. Apologize. _Now._ ”

The two shook hands, mumbling apologies and looking weirdly abashed.

“Ok, good. Now we're all going to apologize to the hot dog guy, we've probably screwed up his business today.” Teddy shrank down to his normal size and huffed, turning to the hot dog vendor. “Sir, I'm very sorry if we scared away any of your customers.”

The hot dog vendor raised his tongs, grinning nervously. “It's, uh. It's no problem, kid. Forget about it.”

“All right, that's all settled, now what are we going to—eh?”

As soon as Teddy had finished talking to the hot dog vendor, Billy had walked over and grabbed the collar of his shirt. He waved to the others with a cursory, “Later, guys,” and they both disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Kate immediately pulled out her phone and started texting. Karolina frowned, taking Xavin's arm in hers. “Who are you messaging?”

“Billy. I'm telling him that if he doesn't soundproof their room and I can hear them having sex when we get home, I'm coming up there with a spray bottle.”

Xavin blinked dizzily. “Someday he will be a great ruler.”

“Or,” said Noh-Varr, coming up besides him with Tommy's hand in his, “an absolute nightmare.”

Tommy grinned. “I vote both. So are we getting falafel or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should write more of Teddy being an unexpected alpha male. It's fun. ^_^


	11. Those Nice Young Men In Their Clean White Coats/Heart In The Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy goes in for a medical exam as part of his lawsuit against the juvenile detention facility he was held in. After he leaves...well, all does not go well for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING**
> 
>  
> 
> This snippet is in part _about_ someone having a trigger reaction, and the resultant panic attack. Also: medical experimentation.
> 
> Be forewarned. Protect yourself. I do sometimes write things that are upsetting and frightening, but I don't want to do so without your consent to be upset or frightened.

_Those Nice Young Men In Their Clean White Coats_

There's a bed in the room, and Tommy is taking his clothes off, but other than that Noh-Varr isn't having anything that even _resembles_ a good day.

“Tommy, are you all right?” he says, as he helps the other man tie the back of the hospital gown.

“No.” Tommy hops up on the examination bed and stares blindly at the wall. “No, I'm pretty much the farthest thing from all right.”

He's shaking. His shivers fill the room and make the air hum, even though it's not really cold at all, and after a moment Noh-Varr reaches up from where he's sitting beside the exam bed and takes hold of his hand. “I'm here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, good.” Tommy's fingers tighten spasmodically on his. “Just...don't leave. I don't care what the fuck they tell you, don't leave.”

“I won't.”

A woman in a white coat comes in—a nurse, or some kind of tech possibly—and introduces herself, but Noh-Varr finds that even a moment later he can't remember her name. She's just there to take samples, anyway. Skin, hair, more than one vial of blood—not too many, but he doesn't keep count. She smiles and chats and is entirely friendly, but when he's not being asked a direct question Tommy doesn't talk. He just keeps staring at the wall.

When the doctor comes in, he frowns at Noh-Varr and says, to the nurse, “What's he doing in here? He's not a patient, is he?”

Noh-Varr shakes his head. “Not a patient. Spouse.” Tommy's grip on his hand is momentarily tighter. “I have Tommy's permission to be present.”

The doctor shoots a questioning look at Tommy, who nods and says, quietly, “If he goes, I go.”

This part is the actual physical examination, scrutinizing and sometimes measuring the fine white lines of incision scars along calves and thighs, peering at the old marks between his fingers, carefully mapping out the irregularities of his feet. Like the nurse or technician or whatever she is, the doctor talks too, chatty and reassuring, never demanding. It would probably be soothing to others, but Noh-Varr isn't sure that Tommy is capable of being soothed.

When the exam is done Tommy says, quietly, “You have my lawyer's information, right?”

“Right here. I'll be in touch with both you and him about my findings for your case.” The doctor taps the folder he's carrying, and then pauses and says, “Can I talk to your husband privately for a moment while you get dressed?”

Noh-Varr looks at Tommy, who nods just a little bit, and then follows the doctor out into the hall.

In the hallway the doctor looks up at him—he's short for a human—and says, “Young man, I'm not usually given to this kind of statement, but...I would take it as a personal favor if you tracked down whatever quack did that to him and...”

The sentence trails off, but the sentiment is clear, and Noh-Varr nods. “I have plans in mind.”

“Good. Excellent. But, ah, maybe you shouldn't share them with me. I _am_ legally required to report threats to the well-being of others to the police.” The doctor winks at him, and then glances at the half-closed door of the exam room. “My nephew's his age, my sister's boy. Spits fire when he's tense. Hell on the drapes, but...nobody deserves that.”

“My feelings precisely.”

When he gets back into the exam room, Tommy is dressed, and just looks up at him and says, quietly, “I hate hospitals.”

\--

_Heart In The Mouth_

They have to run five circuits of the city before Tommy can even _think_ about going home, and then they run five more for good measure, just so he can be sure that he's a little too tired to remember the smell of antiseptic and the brushing sound of white coats. Noh-Varr runs with him and doesn't ask him what he's thinking, and Tommy thinks guiltily about the little injection mark, just where the Kree's hair shades briefly soft into the nape of his neck. _Selfish.Thoughtless. He's got more reason..._

He runs, and runs, and runs, and doesn't think about a time when his feet couldn't touch the ground. The others don't ask about it, ever, and he doesn't tell.

Finally, though, he's tired enough, and they run back to the lair and he vibrates them straight through the wall and into the living room. Billy and Teddy shout, startled, but when they see who it is they pause their episode of _Battlestar Galactica_ and Billy says, “So. Uh. Hey, guys. How...how did it go?”

Tommy flings himself onto another couch and says, “It sucked. I don't want to talk about it.”

Noh sits next to him, and the episode starts up again, and for a while it's ok. He makes fun of Billy and Teddy being geeks, ogles the hot chick, and everything's fine.

And then everything's not fine, he's going to _completely_ fucking lose it, and he doesn't want Noh to...he doesn't want to make Noh deal with it, after everything _he's_ been through. So he says, “Hey, babe.”

Noh smiles down at him. “Yes, _hala?_ ”

The word warms him, but not enough to get rid of the panic. “Could...could you run to that Chinese place, the one we really like? I am suddenly _all about_ wonton soup. I need at least a gallon of it. And some General Tso's.”

Noh looks briefly suspicious, but then his expression softens and he says, “Of course. I'll get us all dinner.” He takes quick requests from Billy and Teddy, kisses Tommy on the cheek, and then is gone.

As soon as he's out of the room Tommy buries his face in his hands and finally lets his breathing speed up.

The couch dips a bit, and—Teddy sits down next to him, shoulder pressing his, and says, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I...” Tommy takes an awful, knife-like, shuddery breath and talks into his hands. “There was this room they had. For when they wanted to look at muscle movements, or if I'd been giving them a lot of shit that day. I had...” he gestures vaguely, “a band, or something, around my stomach, and that was holding me up, because I was like three fucking feet off the ground. Cuffs on my ankles, separated, and the same with my hands, but the ones for my hands had stuff between my fingers so I couldn't _grab_ anything. Couldn't close my hands at all. But it was all, like, _rubber_ or something, so I could still move around. So I could run. But I couldn't go anywhere. And it always smelled like disinfectant. I think they even used the same _brand_ as the place today.”

A pause, and Teddy wraps an arm around his shoulders. “Does Noh-Varr know?”

“God, no. Why the hell would I want to tell him about that? When, when he's had so much _worse..._ ”

Teddy _hugs_ him, and Tommy wonders for a moment what Billy's doing, if Billy's just sitting there watching this and not knowing what to do, but...what the fuck. He's already a hot mess, a total fucking disgrace, so he just presses his face against Teddy's stupidly broad chest and doesn't cry, because he never cries about anything, and Teddy pats his shoulder. It's actually really nice, too, Teddy is _good_ at hugging, and apparently Billy doesn't mind letting someone else get a Teddy-hug for once.

For a little while they just sit like that, Tommy occasionally getting out half a sentence about either something that happened at juvie or about how they can't tell Noh-Varr, they _can't_ , it wouldn't be fair to him...

Teddy presses a kiss onto the top of his head, like they're brothers, and they're _sort of_ brothers, right? They're brothers enough for this to be brotherly and not weird, for this to be something Tommy can have without it fucking up anyone else's day.

And in the doorway Noh-Varr says, “<What are you doing?>”

“<He was having a panic attack, Noh—>” but Teddy's already pulling away from him.

 _Being_ pulled, actually, because now Noh is holding him, cradling him and muttering in sulfurous tones, “ <All those who dare to encroach upon my beloved are my foes, and my foes will be red mist on the winds of this miserable planet that treats its own so shamefully.>”

Teddy says, “<Whoa, there. Not encroaching on anything. Just hugging. Nice, brotherly hugs.>” The things he has to do to say that something's “nice” in Kree are pretty entertaining, too, or would be if Tommy was capable of being entertained right now. They're almost as impressive as the verbal acrobatics required to say “hug,” which translates more as something like “non-combat grapple.”

Tommy snorts against Noh-Varr's neck and says, “Possessive much? You don't think I'd actually cheat on you, do you? And also Billy is _right here._ ”

There's an awkward pause, and then Noh-Varr says plaintively, and in English, “I am _very_ much in the mood to destroy someone right now, _hala,_ and there aren't any scientists available. But I'll admit that I overreacted.”

“So are you going to freak out whenever I get a hug now and you're not here?”

“That would suck,” is Teddy's entirely unhelpful interjection. “Because I really do like to hug people, and Billy's not always available,” and there's the soft thud of Billy punching him in the arm.

“I don't like to see you unhappy.”

“Not having too much fun there myself, dork.” Tommy bats weakly at Noh-Varr's arms around him. At least he's not feeling panicky anymore. “Put me down.”

“No. Holding you is the only thing currently keeping me from tracking down the defendants in your suit and introducing them to some of the more interesting aspects of my biology.” Noh's teeth are gritted. “I'm trying to think of suitable phrases I could burn into their corpses.”

“I don't think that would help, babe.”

“It would help _me._ I would feel much more kindly towards Earth knowing that _they_ aren't on it. I already took care of all of _my_ tormentors.”

Tommy looks over at Billy and says, helplessly, “Why am _I_ suddenly the one trying to talk someone onto the path of kindness and tolerance?”

Billy shrugs. “I don't know. _I'm_ siding with Noh-Varr on this one. We all know what it was like in the Cube, and it doesn't sound like your place was any better. Hey, Noh, want some help? Teddy can tear people in half, and I'm pretty sure that if I focus right I can reduce people to their component atoms.”

Noh grins viciously. “Would it hurt a great deal?”

“All a matter of phrasing, I think.”

“Your offer of assistance is appreciated, and I'll consider it.”

Tommy stares at them all. “...what is even going on here.”

“You didn't tell me you were still afraid.”

“I, but, I didn't want to, _you've_ had to deal with so much—”

Noh huffs and then leans down to say, softly, “< _Hala._ What injures you, injures me. When you are angry, I rage, and what you fear, I will destroy. With extreme prejudice. >”

“But you—”

“< _Extreme_ prejudice. >”

Tommy is at a loss for words, and so finally he settles on, “Did you bring my gallon of soup?”

“Two gallons. I also stopped for ice cream.”

“I—”

“Which I won't share with you unless you promise to _tell_ me the next time something is upsetting you.”

The speedster looks over at Teddy and Billy, who are looking sort of infuriatingly smug now, and says, “Yeah. Yeah, ok. All this lawsuit shit's just...taking it out of me.”

“Understandable.”

“Are you going to put me down now?”

“No.”

Billy says, brightly, “In that case, do you guys want to watch _Kill Bill_ with the bounty of Chinese food?”

Everyone agrees that _Kill Bill_ sounds great, and Tommy says, “So. Noh-Varr. You should put me down now.”

Noh-Varr settles back on the couch and says, serenely, “No.”


	12. Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "billywick asked:
> 
> Nohmmy (what else) prompt: NSFW -> rimming. Do not ask why, I really like the connotations it brings. Sweet Fluff -> a possible future together, thoughts of a family. General concept -> What they do as adults, focus on Tommy as a lawyer keeping kids out of juvie. (that wasn’t 10 words but you can pick and mix if any of these tickle you dear. Super brownie bonus points for Billy and Teddy mentioned having twins.)"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW. And suit porn. And...mm. I like this one a lot.

“No, I'm not tired yet, I'm never tired, don't you know me at all? ... _no,_ I won't make a _bargain,_ I'll start making _bargains_ when my clients start doing something _wrong._ ... _I'm_ a dangerous mutant, hadn't you _heard?_ ” Tommy unlocked the door and pushed it open with his shoulder, since vibrating through things tended to mess with his cell phone reception. “Wow, you _hadn't_ heard. How about you go Google me and I'll look forward to kicking your ass all the way around the courtroom tomorrow. And then after you've Googled me you might want to hit Yelp and find a good bar to drown your sorrows in.”

He thumbed his phone off, pulled off his shoes, and groaned.

An arm wrapped around him from behind, a chin came to rest on his shoulder, and Noh-Varr said in his ear, “So. How was your day?”

“It was long and frustrating and I yelled a lot. So pretty standard.” He squirmed as Noh-Varr reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and dropped it on the table next to the door with his keys. “That girl with total recall is back, they're still trying to bar her from taking the SAT. I don't know how many times I'm going to have to kick their asses before they give up on that. How was your day?”

“I tweaked one of Reed's dimension-travel engines for him and then rebuilt the sound system in that vintage Mustang of Tony's. It was fun.” Noh-Varr spun him around and pressed him against the door, running his fingers along the lapels of Tommy's jacket. “Is this one of the Hugo Boss ones? I like this suit.”

“This is Gieves and Hawkes, you philistine.” Tommy fisted a hand in the front of Noh-Varr's shirt—actually one of _his_ shirts, his old 'Magneto Was Right' one, the image faded and worn with time. “And how did we end up in a situation where _I_ wear a suit all day and _you_ get to lounge around in a t-shirt listening to heavy metal?”

“You know I prefer Handel when I'm working.”

“You're missing the point. Also, is Stark still trying to pay you in concert tickets?”

“If you didn't want to be a lawyer then you shouldn't have enjoyed that lawsuit so much, and I like men in uniform.” Noh-Varr grinned down at him. “And no, I talked him up to half my normal consulting fee and a full Bang and Olufsen sound system for the entire house. People should be coming by tomorrow to take measurements. We may need to get a hotel room for a couple of nights.”

“Oh god you're going to start waking me up with Tchaikovsky again.”

“Actually, I found a new record store today, and they had some very good Shirelles records.” A finger snaked under his tie, pulling it loose but not off. “And a Vandellas single in _very_ good shape. I could wake you up with 'Dancing In The Street' if you'd prefer that to Tchaikovsky.” One button undone at his collar, and then two, and then Noh-Varr's lips pressed against the hollow of his throat, tongue tracing along his collarbone.

“Please don't. I can't handle girl pop first thing.” Tommy wiggled out of his husband's grip enough to get off the door and maneuver them towards the couch, where he fell onto his back, dragging Noh-Varr with him. “You're feeling hands-on today.”

“I like this suit.” Noh-Varr kissed him again, and then ran his hands along Tommy's sides. “You're tense. You shouldn't spend so much time on your feet. Turn over.”

“I was _made_ to be on my feet.” Tommy rolled over onto his face and shrugged out of his jacket, enjoying the feeling of freedom—the vest and shirt he could take, it was just the jacket that got oppressive.

“And I was made to reduce hostiles to a thin red paste, but I don't spend all day doing it.” Noh-Varr dug his fingers into Tommy's shoulders and began to knead.

After a moment the vest became an inconvenience, so it came off and got tossed into an armchair with the jacket over Tommy's protests about that being no way to treat a good suit. The speedster slowly melted under the force of the massage, though, his grumbling becoming less and less coherent as Noh-Varr moved down his back, until by the time the waistband of his pants was becoming an issue he was just sort of murmuring irritably into the couch cushions.

This was, of course, when his cell phone rang. He scowled and flung out an arm, grabbing it off the endtable, and squinted at the caller ID before picking up. “Lehnsherr. ...Foggy, you bastard, why are you calling me on your secretary's phone? I thought it was an emergency. ...if you didn't like the way I talked you wouldn't have made me junior partner. What's the issue?”

Hands undid his belt and opened his fly, pulling down pants and underwear together, and he wiggled a little in surprise when he felt Noh-Varr press a kiss into the small of his back.

“The melting kid? What are they trying to say he did this time? ...what, _really?_ The poor guy can barely _walk_ and they're going to complain about him going under doors? He has eyesight problems, he can't help it if sometimes he...ok, yeah, just drop his file on my desk and I'll see what I can do tomorrow morning.”

Knuckles pressed into his backside now, and he could _feel_ the tension draining, and even with his phone in hand talking about work it felt _really_ nice.

“You really need to start remembering to charge your phone. Makes it really hard to keep in touch with you _ah!_ ”

_Tongue._

Tommy twisted around, startled, and Noh-Varr met his eyes, winked, and took another long, slow lick.

On the phone, he could hear Foggy making concerned noises, and he pulled himself together enough to say, “Sorry, Foggy, we seem to have some kind of roach problem. Took me by surprise. Need to call someone about that ASAP. Talk to you tomorrow!” Then he hung up, turned the sound off on the phone, threw it into the chair with his vest and jacket, and said, “Noh, seriously, someday you're going to get me—”

“Fired?” Noh-Varr _licked_ again and then pulled Tommy's hips up. “I think any reasonable person would be _jealous._ ”

“Of which _one_ of us?”

Noh-Varr shrugged. “Either one.”

Then he pushed his tongue _in,_ and Tommy shut his eyes and moaned into the cushions. This of course only acted as encouragement, so Noh-Varr kept going, holding on tightly so that Tommy's increasingly frantic attempts to grind down into the couch couldn't pull him away.

This was going to _ruin_ the couch cushions.

_Again._

Out of the corner of one eye, Tommy saw a sudden flash of blue light, and then above his head he heard Billy's voice saying, “Hey, sorry to drop in like this but Teddy's got a gallery opening tonight and Franklin had an emergency with the Fantastic Fourteen and had to call off babysitting so I wondered if WHOA. Whoa, whoa, never mind, sorry, I'll drop the girls off with Mom. Or Mom. And then go blind myself. Later!”

Another flash of blue light and he was gone. Tommy laughed into the cushions, and then the laugh turned into another moan as Noh-Varr wrapped a hand around him and began to stroke in time with each push of his tongue. By the time he actually came he felt about to die from overstimulation, and he melted cheerfully as Noh-Varr shifted back and started to fuck him, feeling more relaxed than he'd felt all day.

When _Noh-Varr_ finally groaned and came in him, teeth clamped lightly on the back of his neck, he said, “We should have dinner. Dinner would be good.”

Noh-Varr smiled against his hair. “I just ate, though.”

“You. Are _terrible._ And I love you. Let's get pizza.”

“Pizza's good. Love you too.”

Later, finally in bed and with stomachs full of some of Chicago's finest deep-dish pizza (speedster takeout being the best way to eat), Tommy said, drowsily, “You ever think about kids?”

“Do you mean that in the general sense? Because if so, then yes, obviously I think about kids, if I didn't then I wouldn't spend two days a week at the Baxter Building teaching intergalactic diplomacy to a horde of frustrating miniature geniuses.”

“ _No,_ roach boy, kids and _us._ Like, do _we_ want kids. Billy and Teddy have the twins, and _they_ seem pretty happy.”

Noh-Varr propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Tommy, seeming simultaneously pleased and puzzled. “We can't exactly do what they did, though.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Well, _no._ But we could adopt. I'd like to have a kid.”

“So would I, I think.”

Tommy's cell phone rang.

Tommy made a face, grabbed it from the nightstand, and checked the caller ID. When he saw the name he frowned, surprised, before thumbing 'answer call' “Summers, it's two in the—what?”

Noh-Varr frowned. “What is it?”

“Ssh, hang on a second. She...when? And...look, you know Speed doesn't come out to play any— _oh._ ” Tommy blinked. “You need the _other_ suit.” A pause. “Her aunt thinks she's possess—how _old_ is this girl? She's...s _hit._ Early manifestation. Signs of trauma? Wait, of _course_ there are...her aunt wants to _what._ ...yeah. Yeah, we have a spare room.” He started getting out of bed, and Noh-Varr started to get up too, concerned. “Look, I'll be there in ten minutes. Don't make any statements to the police, don't let her out of your sight, and don't let the aunt take her _anywhere._ ” He hung up the phone and began to blur as he speed-dressed.

Noh-Varr reached for the t-shirt he'd flung over the end of the bed. “Will we have company tonight?”

“Yeah.” Tommy buttoned his shirt up, realized it was wrong, rebuttoned it, and almost fumbled his cuffs until Noh-Varr fixed them. “Name's Elaine. Five years old. Electrokinesis, just manifested. _Messy_ manifestation. She...her family's house just burned down.” His phone buzzed with a text message, and he opened it quickly. “Make mac and cheese? Scott says it's her favorite.”

“I'll go start on it now.”

“Thanks.” Tommy kissed Noh-Varr's cheek and quickly combed his hair. “Super-lawyer to the rescue.”


	13. Hot Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [AllKnowing1](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AllKnowing1/pseuds/AllKnowing1) left me this comment on the chapter "Hearts, Minds, and Stomachs":
> 
> "Please, please tell me you will one day write a story with Molly and Loki going on a date. maybe with some Runaway’s and young avengers tailing them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has no warnings, no worries, nothing to be concerned about at all--unless you have diabetes, in which case the sugar infusion might be a little dangerous.

“Oh nooooo! I have a zit! Why do I have a zit? I don't get zits! Nico, can you use your magic to fix my zit? Pleeeease?”

Nico stared down at Molly and blushed faintly. “Sorry, Molly. I can't fix your zit with magic.”

“Why _not?_ ”

“I've...already done a zit-fixing spell.”

“But you _never_ get...oh.”

“Come on, Mol.” Karolina patted her on the shoulder “My parents were actors; I know all kinds of tricks to cover it up.”

Molly grinned weakly. “Ok...wait, should I wear makeup? Is this a makeup date? I _sort_ of like him, but I don't really want him to be my boyfriend, so does that mean _different_ makeup? What do I _do?_ ”

\--

“You need to understand that I'm doing this for _Molly._ ” Billy scowled and pulled the comb through Loki's hair again, then put a hand out to one side and gestured peremptorily. “Product. This is impossible. What are you, Harry Potter?”

Teddy passed him the hairspray with batted eyelashes and a meek, “Yes, dear.”

“Don't sass me, Tee, this is serious business. If I send Loki over there with his hair sticking up like this—seriously, you've got _devil horns,_ what the hell is in that cap of yours? Anyway if he goes over there looking messy Chase might feed him to the goddamn dinosaur.”

“How is that bad?”

“ _I'd_ object.”

“ _You_ can keep your mouth shut or get hairspray in it, Loki. I'm revoking your God of Mischief title; you're just the God of Hat Hair now.” Billy sprayed Loki's hair _and_ the comb, ran the comb through again, and nodded, satisfied. “Better. Now I can at least get it to _lie_ flat. Seriously, though, why ask _me_ to help you with this? Kate's the fashionista.”

“Well, I—”

“And if you say it's because I'm 'the gay one' I _will_ fill your mouth with hairspray.”

“Your hair's the same length as mine.” Loki looked...embarassed? “And you always look so nice.”

Billy blinked as he combed Loki's hair over to one side. “Oh. Well...thanks? That may actually be the first time anyone's said _I_ look nice.”

“You always look nice, Bee.” Teddy didn't even look up from his drawing tablet this time. “We just don't mention it because we worry that it'll go to your head.”

“Screw you, Teddy.”

“Not in front of the boy, dear.”

Billy snorted, put down the comb, and rubbed some excess hairspray off of Loki's forehead with a Kleenex. “Ok, you look at least semi-respectable. Which I suspect is more respectable than you've ever looked before, so go me.” He adjusted the collar of Loki's shirt—Kelly green, of course, with gold buttons—and then dug in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Here. Eighty dollars. Bring her flowers and don't try anything funny. And you owe me a favor. And you made that promise in front of Volstagg, so you can't weasel out of it.”

“I don't know what she—”

“Karolina said daffodils.” Billy stared down at Loki and, finally, smiled. “You'll have fun. You have my phone number, right?”

Loki nodded silently.

“Good. Call me if it's an emergency. Only then, though, I do have a big paper due tomorrow for anthropology.”

Teddy frowned at the picture he was working on, switched to another layer, and brushed in the faintest hint of shading. “Our little boy's all grown up.”

Loki and Billy both glanced over at him, and then at each other, looking disturbed. Billy shrugged.

\-- 

_“Hawkeye, did Billy get the tracker on him?”_

_“Yep. On his collar.”_

_“Good, good.”_

_“Aaaaand...I have a visual. They're outside that little place Molly liked, Lou's Pizza Hub.”_

_“Missy's on it.”_

Molly frowned for a moment, her brow crinkling under the one curl of hair that had escaped her braid. “Do you ever feel like you're being watched?”

“Almost constantly, Miss Hayes.”

“You _can_ call me Molly, you know.”

 _“Dios mio. He's_ blushing. _”_

“All right. Um. Molly.” Loki shuffled his feet. “What kind of pizza do you want to get?”

She stared at the board with the intense scrutiny of the young and awkward, bouquet of daffodils clutched tightly in her hands. “Um...do you like anchovies?”

He brightened. “I _love_ anchovies!”

“Let's get anchovies and bacon. Karolina says fish will help with my nosebleeds.”

“Will it really?”

“I don't know, but I actually sort of like them.”

“That's very, um, refined of you.”

 _“Ok, now_ she's _blushing.”_

 _“If he lays a_ finger _on her...”_

_“Chase, calm down. It's sort of cute.”_

_“Well, what are they doing now?”_

_“He got her a soda—and it's a_ big _soda, too, do you guys normally let her get larges?”_

“Why do you roll up the pizza like that? Does it serve some special purpose?”

Molly swallowed her mouthful of pizza and flashed Loki a cheesy grin. “If you fold it like that you can get more at once. C'mon, try it.”

He gave his slice of pizza a skeptical look. “If you say so...”

_“Aw, that's so cute.”_

_“What? What's cute?”_

_“He got pizza grease on his nose and she wiped it off.”_

_“This is a scheme, isn't it. He's trying to make her like him.”_

_“Chase, honey, I think if he didn't want her to like him he wouldn't have asked her out on a date.”_

_“Hawkeye makes a cogent point.”_

_“Shut up, Vic.”_

They talked about _Adventure Time_ and made silly faces, and Loki told stupid jokes and did magic tricks and made Molly laugh so hard that she got soda up her nose _more than once._ She told him about vampires and time travel and how she was apparently going to have to go back to school eventually. They talked about dogs and _X-Statix_ and ate the whole pizza, competing for who could figure out the most ridiculous way to get through a slice.

After Loki had brought the pan back up to the counter and they'd both run to the bathroom, Molly shuffled her feet and smiled into her daffodils. “So, uh. What are we doing now?”

_“We have teleportation. I repeat, we have teleportation.”_

_“Shit.”_

_“Hang on, the tracker's picking up again...they're in...southern New Hampshire? Well, ok, that's...not what I was expecting. Guys?”_

_“Cool your jets, Chase, Miss America and I are on the way there.”_

_“Yeah, so're we.”_

_“Who's piloting?”_

_“Vic is; I'm working on the tracker.”_

_“We're here.”_

_“Shit, you ladies are fast.”_

_“Looks like...aw, he took her to an arcade.”_

The woman at the counter smiled as Loki held the door for Molly, and Molly stared at the aisles of arcade cabinets and pinball machines and grinned hugely. “This is _awesome._ ”

“Isn't it? I come here all the time.” Loki waved to the woman and the counter and handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “One hundred tokens, please, Ms. Wizard.”

“Sure, kiddo.” She winked at him and nodded to Molly. “You should introduce me to your girlfriend.”

They turned bright red, and Molly said, “I'm not his girlfriend,” just as he was saying, “She's not my girlfriend,” and then they looked at each other and laughed nervously.

“ _Real_ ly.” She handed them a cup of tokens and smiled. “Well, you kids have fun. We tracked down one of the old X-Force pinball machines if you want to take a look; it's over near the front there.”

Molly's eyes went wide. “Does it have Doop on it?”

“Front and center, sweetie.”

“Let's go play pinball!”

 _“Wow, there's no good way to get a visual in there, and the sound interference is—what the_ fuck?”

 _“Holy shit, what_ is _that?”_

_“That's a dragon!”_

_“What the hell is a dragon doing in New Hampshire?”_

_“Have you ever_ been _to New Hampshire?”_

_“...no, why?”_

_“You should've seen their Initiative team. Their training camp was Camp Live Free Or Die Hard.”_

_“Guys, maybe we should be focussing on the—oh shit acid! Maybe we should be focusing on the_ acid-spitting dragon! _”_

“Pow!”

“Wow. You're very good at air hockey.”

“Thanks! I like games where I get to hit things really hard.” Molly collected her winnings—they'd split their tokens to bet on rounds of air hockey—and looked around the arcade. “What next? Wanna go play _Street Fighter?_ ”

Loki smiled slyly. “Well, I was thinking maybe we could go play some Skee-Ball. That gets us tickets.”

“Sure, let's go! But _Street Fighter_ after that.”

 _“Wait, there's_ two _dragons now? Why are there_ two _dragons? Where did they_ come _from?”_

_“Maybe they nest around here.”_

_“Well, why are they attacking the arcade?”_

_“Let's just blame Loki for that and move on.”_

“Wow. I didn't think Skee-Ball machines _could_ run out of tickets.”

“You know, neither did I.” They were on their hands and knees in front of the Skee-Ball lanes, and as they both reached for a particularly large pile of tickets their hands brushed, and they yelped and pulled apart. Loki coughed and stared fixedly at the floor as he continued to gather up tickets. “Would you like me to get you something?”

“Oh! Um, sure! Please!” Molly went pink. “Maybe we should go use that ticket-counting machine first, though.”

 _“Ok, so that's_ one _acid-spitting dragon down for the count, but I_ don't _think it's dead, and—oh_ no. _Are those_ little _dragons?”_

_“We have little dragons. I repeat, we have little dragons.”_

_“Why_ tonight? _”_

The purple stuffed monkey was surprisingly small, its arms and legs vastly long. Its tail was sewn on crooked, which was...oddly charming, Loki thought. Molly tucked it under one arm, beaming. “Thanks, Loki! I'm going to name it Aoshima.”

“After the, ah, the thing in _Gravity Falls?_ ”

“Yep! So, wanna go get your butt kicked at _Street Fighter_ now?”

 _“Ok, this is just_ sad. _You think we can lead them to a spot where they_ won't _be attacking the arcade?”_

_“Probably.”_

_“They must not like how Loki smells or something.”_

_“...uh, actually, you guys, I think it's the Leapfrog. I think they hate it.”_

“Your prowess at _Street Fighter_ is absolutely terrifying, Molly.”

“Thanks!” Molly smiled at him, and then reached for the cup of tokens and frowned. “Oh. We're out of tokens.”

“We can get some more, if you like. Or...” He smiled hopefully at her.

She blinked. “Or?”

“I know a _very_ good place to get ice cream. And, and there's a dock near it with a really good view of the sea.”

“That sounds nice. Let's do that.”

 _“Look, we're_ really _sorry, we didn't know you were nesting near here. See, we're leaving. We're taking our machine and we're leaving.”_

_“Hey, guys?”_

_“Hang on a sec, Chase, I'm almost—”_

_“Guys, seriously, they're teleporting again.”_

_“Shit, really? Have you got a lock on them?”_

Molly and Loki sat at the end of the dock, trailing their toes in the water, Loki's shoes and Molly's nice sandals lined up neatly next to them. Aoshima the monkey was propped up against the shoes, smiling amiably into nothing, crooked tail trailing across the planks, with the slowly wilting daffodils lying across his lap.

“This is really pretty.” Molly took a sip of her milkshake, and then flicked her eyes over to look at Loki. He wasn't looking at her, so she shifted a little closer to him—just a little. Not like she was _trying_ to sit near him or anything.

Then he started to turn towards her, and so she looked away, going pink, and took another sip of milkshake. He smiled nervously and then, since she wasn't looking at him, shifted a little closer to her. “Isn't it? I like to come here sometimes when I need to think about things. Everything's...very confusing right now.”

“Yeah. I know how that feels.” She stared at the water rippling around her toes. “Sometimes I feel like there's something big and secret going on but nobody will explain it to me. And sometimes I miss my parents. I mean, I _don't_ miss them, they were _evil,_ but...do _you_ ever feel like nothing in your life makes sense, Loki?”

“I...” He stopped mid-way through raising his milkshake to take another sip and gazed out at the lowering sun. “Almost constantly, Molly. Almost constantly. Even when I think things are working out all right there always seems to be some kind of background layer that I can't control.”

This time they both shifted simultaneously, and their shoulders bumped, and they yelped and moved apart again. But—then, after a moment, their hands drifted down to rest on the edge of the dock, pinky fingers just barely touching as they drank their milkshakes.

After a moment Loki said, “Did I do it right? I'm not sure that I'm very good at this.”

Molly frowned. “Do what right?”

“The, uh...date.”

“I don't know. I've never been on a date before. But I had a _really_ nice time.”

“Oh.” He brightened, looking pleased. “Well, good. I had a nice time too.”

 _“Finally! Found them! And—oh my_ god, _you guys.”_

 _“What? What'd he do? Where are my gloves, I'll_ fry _him—”_

_“No, Chase, cut that out. This is the cutest thing I've ever seen.”_

_“Loki isn't—wow, ok, that_ is _really cute. Wait, are they holding hands? He's holding her hand. If he tries anything—”_

_“We know, Chase. Calm down.”_

\--

There was a brief flash of green light, and Molly and Loki appeared on the sidewalk outside where the Runaways had holed up and tossed their empty milkshake cups into a nearby trash can. Molly turned to Loki, her purple stuffed monkey tucked under one arm, and said, awkwardly, “Thank you for the lovely evening, Loki.”

He bowed, a little stiffly. “Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Molly.”

They stared at each other nervously as above them the streelight flicked on—ten minutes to nine, that meant, almost Molly's curfew. It wasn't really dark yet, but it was just dim enough that they suddenly seemed isolated in a cone of warm light, the rest of the street fading past its edge. Everything was very quiet and still.

Slowly, carefully, with their eyes closed and from a good two feet apart, they leaned toward each other—and missed, the corner of Molly's mouth _just_ brushing Loki's cheek. As they straightened back up their cheeks bumped again, and they both laughed nervously, Loki scratching the back of his head. “So. Ah. Can I. See you again sometime?”

She looked at him for a moment and then nodded. “Sure. Sure, ok.”

Behind them, the building's door opened, and Nico leaned out. “Molly? You coming in?”

“In a second, Nico!” Before Nico—or Loki—could say anything, Molly leaned forward, this time with her eyes _open,_ and kissed Loki quickly on the cheek. “Um. Good night, Loki.”

The diminutive god turned bright red. “Good night, Molly.”

She hurried in through the open door. “Hey, everyone! ... _whoa,_ Chase, what happened to your _shirt?_ ”

On the street, Nico nodded to Loki, eyes narrowed, and then went back into the building and shut the door.

After a moment Loki dug his phone out of his pocket and sent a text.

_[Thx 4 distraction. R ur kids ok?]_

_[Fine. Sleeping. *Awful* noise. You owe me.]_

_[Might need u again.]_

_[She better be worth it.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The places Loki takes Molly are real places. Lou’s Pizza Hub is probably closed by now, but when I was five it was the world’s best pizza. The arcade is called Pinball Wizard, it’s in Pelham, New Hampshire, and it’s really pretty awesome. Aoshima is also real; he's in a pile somewhere near my chair. ^_^


	14. Password Protected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "Anonymous asked:
> 
> "Le prompt: William is a mage hired to get rid of a dragon tormenting a village. Dorrek is a dragon that can turn into human form. Plot twist: Billy writes bad fantasy porn about himself and Teddy. You know he would."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was SO FUN TO WRITE. Also it's a _little_ NSFW. Just. You know. A little.

William the mage pushed his broad-brimmed hat back on his forehead and frowned at the road the villagers had pointed to. It was a broad enough way, he thought, and it might have been inviting once, but now the path was overgrown, and the trees that lined it were scorched and leafless. Great rents had been torn in the ground, as if by massive claws.

“I think,” he said to himself, “that I may have gotten in over my head.”

He stared at the road for a bit longer and took a deep breath.

“This is probably a bad plan.”

But...

...he'd been hired to defeat a dragon, and defeat a dragon he would. Hopefully.

He hefted his staff, tapped the ground with it once or twice to reassure himself—an old nervous habit, but one he'd never broken himself of—and set off down the road to the dragon's lair, humming quietly to himself.

\-- 

“Hey, Bee?”

Billy looked up from his pyschology textbook. “Yeah?”

Teddy was frowning at the computer. “What's this password-protected folder here?”

“Oh. Um.” Billy turned a little pink. “That's the stuff for my fiction-writing class, the one I took for an elective last semester. It's all kinda terrible, you don't want to read it.”

Teddy twisted in his chair and grinned at him. “So you're not secretly writing Johnlock mpreg and posting it to AdultFanFiction.Net?”

“Oh my _god,_ Teddy, _no._ ”

\--

As he approached the cave the air was split by a roar of, “WHO DARES DISTURB MY SLUMBER?”

William took in a deep, gulping breath and said, “Um.”

 _Oh,_ very _clever, William._

“It is I, Archmage William, and I have come to defeat you and stop you from terrorizing this town!”

There was an almost surprised pause, and then the dragon emerged from its cave. It—he, William supposed, it had sounded like a male voice—was vast and green, the size of a house or greater, with long claws and heavily plated shoulders and one long crest of yellow scales on the top of his head. Two smaller crests rose from the sides of his head, like ears; they were pierced through with rings of gold and silver. He opened his mouth to roar again and then stopped, peering down at William curiously. “You're much smaller than the last person they sent to defeat me.”

Wiliam gulped. “A-am I?”

“And cuter. You're a lot cuter than he was.”

“And...what happened to him?”

The dragon's wings rippled in something that approximated a shrug. “I ate him. I didn't really _want_ to, he didn't taste very good, but he kept trying to hit me with his sword and I got annoyed.”

William swallowed hard and tightened his grip on his staff. “Well. Well! I'm here because you need to stop bothering this town.”

The dragon made a 'whuff' noise, spitting out a tiny lick of flame as he did. “I haven't _done_ anything to them. I only eat people when they bother me. Mostly I eat deer.”

“What about the herd of cows?”

“...cows? ...oh, is _that_ what the fat black-and-white deer are called? I _wondered_ why everyone was getting so upset.” The dragon paused, peering at him. “Look, it's _really_ hard to talk to you like this. Do you mind if I...?”

William raised his staff slightly and took a step back. “Do I mind if you _what?_ ”

The dragon's wings rippled again—no, his whole _body_ rippled, waves spreading under his scales. It was...oddly beautiful, actually. And then he rippled _again,_ and _shrank,_ and suddenly instead of a dragon standing in the mouth of the cave there was—a man.

William stared.

The man was still very tall, and the sun's beams shone off his golden hair and the hoops that still pierced his ears. He wore rings on his fingers and toes as well, and his still-faintly-green skin was illuminated by tiny points of multicolored light as sunlight filtered through the facets of his many gems.

 _All_ of his skin. Because he was, other than his jewelry, _completely_ naked. His chest was broad and well-muscled, and he had the powerful arms of a blacksmith or a stoneworker, and his legs were.

His _legs_ were.

William knew that he was trying to think of an appropriate term to describe the dragon's legs, but found that his gaze had stopped somewhere. Ah. _Between_ them.

The dragon grinned toothily at him, eyes flashing a reptilian yellow, and held out one be-ringed hand, his fingers still tipped with tiny claws. “My name is Dorrek. Why don't you come in, and we'll discuss this whole situation like civilized people?”

\--

“So what are you writing?”

Billy yelped and minimized the window as Teddy's chin came to rest on his shoulder. “Nothing! Homework!”

“That didn't look like homework, it looked like a story or something.” Teddy smiled against his ear. “I thought the fiction-writing class was _last_ semester. Did you decided to keep it up?”

 _“No,”_ Billy said, with a kind of weak indignation. “It's...it's nothing like that. It's just. A thing.”

“Well, I mean, if you're writing stories then can I read them? Maybe we could do a comic together. I do need to work more on doing sequentials.”

The idea _did_ have real appeal, actually, so Billy grinned nervously at his husband's face reflected on the computer screen. “That...could be cool?”

“It'd be _really_ cool. We could apply at Marvel together. Or Top Cow!”

Familiar ground now. “Seriously, Tee, what is your obsession with _Witchblade?_ ”

“I like it. It's fun. I like fantasy stuff, and the designs are really cool. Anyway, though, you're going to have to let me see what you're writing eventually. I can't handle the curiosity. I'm like a cat that way.”

“Does that mean I can take videos of you in the morning when you're all dumb and put them on Youtube?”

“You _better_ not.” 

\-- 

William stared at the dragon, who smiled cheerfully at him from across the table. “You want me to _what?_ ”

“Stay with me.” Dorrek gestured to the vast cave in which they sat, the movements of his jeweled hand taking in the mounds of gold and gems, the books in piles and on shelves, the network of smaller caves in which William had seen living quarters. “You're very cute, and you haven't tried to hit me yet. Stay with me and help me learn which deer are safe to eat, and I promise I'll start hunting farther away from the town.”

“Stay with you.” William swallowed hard. “As...as your prisoner?”

The dragon _blushed_ a bit, which looked _very_ strange against the faint green of his skin. “Well, you _can_ call it that, if you like.”

\--

Billy lay on his stomach on the bed, ankles crossed in the air behind him, frowning at the screen of his laptop. He was focused so intently that he didn't even hear the bedroom door open.

_William gasped against Dorrek's mouth as the dragon lifted him onto the edge of the bed. “Oh...oh, I can't believe I'm...”_

_“Don't worry.” Dorrek's hands slid down William's sides to his thighs, tugging so that the mage's legs were spread wide and the dragon could move in between them. “I won't hurt you. You're very beautiful.”_

_“You...you think so?”_

_“Yessss...” The word came out with a reptilian hiss as Dorrek pressed his face against the side of William's neck, licking at his jugular with a forked tongue. “You're a treasure. You're my treasure.” One of his hands wrapped around William's cock, each jeweled ring a point of strange coolness against William's flushed skin. “Mine forever. My treasure.”_

Billy shifted awkwardly. Lying down like this was getting a little...difficult, but he really wanted to get this scene done. It wasn't really his _best_ work, true, but the deadline for the kink meme contest was barely a week away, and he _did_ have a couple of papers to write. If he got _this_ done _today,_ then he'd have the whole weekend to deal with those, barring work shifts.

Although the distraction _was_ getting really...pressing. Maybe he should take a break and—

Hands closed around his ankles and pulled him backwards, and then there was a weight pressing down on his back, arms around his shoulders, legs tangled with his, and Teddy's cheerful voice said in his ear, “Uh-oh, Billy! STF! Getting locked in!”

“Dammit _,_ Tee, we talked about the wrestling moves!” Billy scrabbled for his laptop, trying desperately to minimize his LibreOffice window, but to no avail; Teddy couldn't be budged. “I thought you weren't going to put me in headlocks anymore!”

“But you were _right there._ I couldn't resist. And _technically_ it's a chin lock.” Teddy shifted a little bit, rolling Billy over so that they were facing each other and kissing him on the nose. “You were just so—wow, ok, hi there. Were you looking at porn on there or something?”

Before Billy could stop him, Teddy had pulled his laptop over and started to read through the open file.

As Billy watched in faint dismay, Teddy's eyes went wide. “You _were_ writing fanfiction!”

Billy slowly started to go pink. “...yes.”

“ _Sexy_ fanfiction.”

Billy nodded mutely.

“Sexy fanfiction...about _us?_ ”

Billy turned his head, staring fixedly at the wall, and then nodded again.

“Where I'm...a dragon?”

Billy swallowed hard and said, “It was a Young Avengers kink meme prompt.”

“Wait, we have a _kink meme?_ ” Teddy stared at the screen for another moment and then looked down at Billy again. “I think I can actually do that, you know. Seriously, though, how'd you find the kink meme?”

“Well, um...I was on AO3 looking for Aquaman fanfiction a while ago and I...decided to check out the superhero RPF section? And...there's all _kinds_ of stuff about us. We have some. Um. _Very enthusiastic_ fans.” Billy could feel heat rising in his ears. “I don't think most people know that Tommy and I are brothers. So. That happened. But _other_ than that, some of it's actually. Um. _Really_ good.”

“As in hot.”

“As in _oh my god._ And I was taking that fiction-writing class, and the professor kept going on about drawing from life and basing characters on people you know and everything, and I thought I'd...so my username on AO3 is CuteLittleWizardGuy. You know, like what Carol's always calling me.”

“ _Well._ That's. Uh.” Teddy's eyes were on the screen again, scanning the text there, and then he picked up the laptop and set it down gently on the floor next to the bed. “You know, Bee, you should share this stuff with me more often.”

“R-really? I mean, I didn't think you'd—” Billy moved a bit and—noticed something _very important._ “Oh. _Oh. That_ kind of sharing. You...you like it?”

Teddy shifted and grew larger, his eyes going golden and his skin turning faintly green as he grinned down at Billy. “How about you take a break from your writing and I help you figure out how to finish that scene?”


	15. Eighty Percent At Least

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "Anonymous asked:
> 
> "OMG! I super love your fics and I don’t know how to prompt you but I would love you a lot more if you did another Teddy/Billy/Tim/Kon where Teddy gets tied up and has to watch Tim and Kon double team Billy! Bonus points if they DP Billy!"
> 
> That...that is not exactly what I wrote. Not quite. Maybe not at all.
> 
> Despite the prompt, this is entirely work-safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work-safe.
> 
> No, seriously.

They were all slumped together in an AIM holding cell, and the temperature was rising.

Some of that was metaphorical.

“Ok, this time there's _definitely_ sex pollen.”

It had _started_ with perfecting the dimension-hopping spell Billy had discovered by accident—with some help from Dr. Strange, who'd been surprisingly incurious as to what he wanted it for. Once Billy had gotten it working and the option was _there,_ it didn't take him _or_ Teddy long to think of visiting Tim and Conner again. Increasing interdimensional communication could only be good for everyone, right?

Right.

So they'd started visiting regularly, once a month, alternating dimensions. Most of the time they just got lunch and spent some time relaxing and swapping comic books. It was good to have friends who understood the pressures of superhero life but dealt with different situations.

Sometimes they even patrolled together. Of course, patrolling together was what had gotten them into their current situation.

“Couldn't be _pollen,_ ” Teddy said muzzily. “Couldn't be a chemical thing at all. Chemicals that affect humans don't mess with me.”

“ _Metaphorical_ pollen.” Tim raked a hand through his hair, adjusted his mask, and fanned himself, looking overheated. “ _Something_ is definitely making me very...ah. Very. Is it extremely warm in here?” He undid his collar and slouched against Conner's side. “It's very warm in—mm. You smell good.”

“It could be magic.” Billy was sprawled against the wall, his head lolling on Teddy's knee. “I mean, that wouldn't really be like AIM, but it _could_ be magic. Actually, it _could_ be like AIM. They've gotten really _weird_ lately.”

“No. Not magic.” Conner was sitting on Teddy's other side with his legs folded, looking twitchy. The actual _heat_ in the room was mostly coming from him; he was staring fixedly at a point on the opposite wall. “If it was magic I'd be _way_ more messed up.”

“Oh. You have that too?”

“It's a Kryptonian thing. We all have it.”

“Sex _radiation._ ” Tim pointed to the little device installed over the door of their holding cell. “That device there is deploying some variety of radiation. I assume whoever built it had Hulkling in mind, as I doubt they could have known about Con.”

“Is _that_ why I'm the only one tied up?” Teddy shifted a bit, rocking the chair he'd been tied to. He'd tried to shift to escape from his bonds, but they'd only expanded and contracted with him. “Because they didn't know that he's _also_ an alien with super-strength?”

“It might be a test of your particular Skrull physiology.” Tim undid another button at his collar, panting. “To see how you react to. Um. Sexual frustration. Con, can you get us out of here?”

Con made as if to stand and then shook his head. “Uhm. Sorry, Ti—Robin. I'm...having trouble focusing my TTK.”

“Yes, that makes sense. The sensation here is remarkably similar to taking a mild dose of Ecstacy.”

Teddy blinked. “When did _you_ take Ecstacy?”

“During my initial training period with Batman. I experienced several common hallucinogenic and euphoric substances under controlled laboratory conditions, as preparation for encountering them in the field. And several varieties of fear toxin, which was unpleasant.”

Billy tugged at his cape, trying to loosen it, and ended up pulling it off completely. “So we've concluded that it's sex pollen of _some_ kind. I think what we need to figure out now is whether our lives are in danger.”

“Whether this is a fuck-or-die situation, you mean?”

“That. Yeah. If we don't have sex are they going to, like, flood the room with poison gas? Is this an endurance test or do they just...I don't know...want to measure our orgone levels or something?”

Tim look surprised. “I didn't know you'd read the work of Wilhelm Reich.”

“Psych major.”

“Oh, right, yes. I forget that. That you study psychology. You're very smart.” Tim stared abstractedly at one of Billy's outflung legs and then ran a hand over his ankle. “And you have nice legs, have I mentioned that?”

Con took a deep, shuddery breath and then looked over at Teddy. “I have _no_ idea what they're talking about.”

Teddy grinned weakly. “You don't read fanfiction, do you?”

“No...I mean, Tim reads a ton of it, sometimes I read over his shoulder, but I don't _look_ for it or anything.”

“They're talking about popular fanfiction tropes. Sex pollen is this right now, it makes us all horny. Fuck or die is when two characters _have_ to have sex for some reason.”

Billy made a squeaking noise, and Teddy and Con looked down, startled—Tim had started tracing the swirling patterns on the leg of Billy's costume with the tip of one finger. He looked fascinated. “I feel like I could find a message in this. It's like a maze.” Up, and he was tracing the line just above Billy's knee. “You know, I never realized this before, but this looks like _stockings._ Have you ever asked Hawkeye why she gave you such a pornographically distracting costume?”

Tim had crawled halfway over Con's lap in order to look at Billy's legs more closely, and Con's gaze was fixed on the shape of his boyfriend's back. Teddy, meanwhile, was staring at Tim's hand on Billy's leg, eyes following the tip of Tim's finger as it drew spirals and spiderwebs. Billy closed his eyes and shuddered.

Then, suddenly, his eyes snapped open. His pupils were enormous as he looked up at Teddy and said, “Tee, I think this _is_ a fuck-or-die.”

Everyone became very still as Teddy said, breathlessly, “What makes you say that?”

“Because,” Billy said, nuzzling at Teddy's knee, “if _someone_ doesn't fuck me I am going to _die._ ”

Unbelievably, then, the room got _stiller._ Tim's tracing finger slowed and then stopped, his hand moving to curl over Billy's knee. “Of what? Do you think you've been given some kind of endorphin-dispersed poison? You're not showing any of the usual signs.”

“No, just regular, garden-variety blue balls.”

“You _can't_ die of blue balls.”

“I'll give it a damn good try. I'd just teleport us out of here, but I can't _concentrate_ like this. I can barely hear myself _think._ And anyway even if I _did_ get us out I think at this point we'd all just end up fucking anyway.”

Con and Tim were suddenly looking up, laser-focused on Billy, and Teddy said, breathlessly, “So you're suggesting that we all have sex _now._ ”

“Why _not?_ We've done it before.” _(See “Prompt Fic #4: Spur of the Moment”! —Cheery Commie)_

“Good...ah, good point.” Con sounded like his mouth had gone dry. “We have done that.”

“Uh, guys?” Teddy shifted and _shifted,_ and yet again his restraints shifted with him. “I am. I am surprisingly down with this plan except for the fact that I have this little chair problem. And also we're in an AIM holding cell, someone's probably _watching._ ”

“That's also a thing. A trope.” Tim gestured grandiosely with his free hand, let out a little laugh, and rolled over onto his back on Con's lap with his head on Billy's thigh and one arm wrapped around Teddy's leg. “Heroes letting their guard down unwisely in enemy strongholds. Do you ever wonder what our lives would be like if this were fanfiction?”

“I'm pretty sure if this were fanfiction then we'd be having sex already. Given what I've seen you read.” Con caught Tim's wrist to stop him from waving his free arm around, and then paused, staring transfixed at Tim's hand. “I like your hands. I like your fingers.”

“We still haven't fixed my chair problem, guys.” Teddy shook his head as if to clear it. “Not that I wouldn't mind watching you guys but...what are you doing?”

“Fixing your chair problem.” Billy's eyes had started to glow blue. “I think maybe...I think maybe...”

The light went out from him in a blue wave, and when it faded...they were still in the cell, and Teddy was still tied to the chair. He frowned. “Bee—Wiccan, I don't see how that helps.”

“Nobody's watching anymore. I sealed the cell and fried the surveillance equipment.”

“You didn't get me out of the chair, though.”

“No, I just made it not a problem anymore.”

“How is it not an— _oh,_ ” because Billy had scrambled up onto his lap and started scrabbling at the zipper at his throat, working one hand under the ropes so he could open the front of Teddy's costume. “You're...you're not going to untie me?”

Billy pressed his face against Teddy's collarbone and said, “No,” into his skin. “You get to stay right there.”

“I'm still not seeing the advantages of _nngh._ ” Billy had gotten the zipper far enough down now that most of Teddy's chest and stomach were exposed, and had gotten one hand into his pants. “Well, ok, if it's going to be like _that..._ ”

There was a slightly drunken giggle from the floor next to them, and they looked down to see that Con was still inspecting Tim's hand closely. He traced the lines on Tim's palm with the tip of one finger, traced farther back along his forearm and over the curve of his bicep, stroked over his shoulder and down the side of his throat. His fingertips dipped into the open collar of Tim's costume, and Tim's fuzzy laughter transitioned into an indistinct moaning noise.

“That was...one hell of a noise.” At this point Teddy had started to go a bit cross-eyed. “What'd you _do?_ ”

“N-nothing. I think he's just high. I think _I'm_ high.”

Billy started laughing, and Teddy said, “Yeah. Definitely high—holy shit, Bee, you're going to fall—” It was too late. Billy had fallen over, out of Teddy's lap and into Conner's. It looked, to Teddy at least, possibly a little too serendipitous to be accidental. Teddy blinked rapidly, trying not to breathe too quickly. “So when does the cheesy porn music start, then?”

“Not sure if I can answer that, dude, my lap is full of little scrawny guys and I think they're about to start making out. Aaaaand there they go.”

“We should never leave them unsupervised.”

“Yeah, guess not.”

Tim extricated himself long enough to say, “Ex- _cuse_ me. I'm not _scrawny._ ”

Billy frowned. “Also did you ask for cheesy porn music? Because I could probably make some cheesy porn music.”

“Wait. Wait, wait.” Tim looked around the room, squinted at the radiation machine over the door again, and then made a face. “I don't think that device is actually emitting radiation. I think it's having some kind of psychic effect. That would explain both our, ah, physical state _and_ our sudden lack of inhibition. And generally the other changes in behaviour we've been seeing. Con, lift me up so I can look at it?”

“Here, Teddy, hold your wizard.” Conner deposited Billy back in Teddy's lap and did as he'd been asked, lifting Tim up by the waist so that he could inspect the device over the cell door.

Tim frowned at the little machine and then dug in the pockets of his costume. He'd been stripped of all his equipment before they'd been thrown into the cell, but nevertheless, after a moment he managed to come up with a paper clip. “A- _ha!_ ” He unfolded the paper clip and did something to the machine.

There was a spark, a loud _crack_ noise, and a smell of ozone, and then the blinking light on the front of the radiation machine flickered and went off.

“Got it!”

The temperature in the room immediately dropped down to normal levels as Conner relaxed, and all four of them shook their heads, feeling abruptly much more lucid. Once he'd been put back down, Tim started to inspect the door for any kind of keyhole. “I have this paperclip, I might be able to—”

“Don't worry about it.” Billy's eyes went blue, and he muttered something, and with a now-familiar blur they were back in Billy and Teddy's bedroom at the Young Avengers lair, sitting on the bed, Tim's confiscated equipment and Billy's cape piled in one corner.

There was a long moment where they didn't talk to or look at each other. Everyone looked mildly embarrassed.

Finally Teddy coughed and said, “Well. So. That was interesting. I should, uh, I mean since we're not going to...” and started to zip up the front of his costume.

Billy absently batted his hands away from his zipper. “No, don't, don't do that. So Tim, how did you figure out it was a psychic thing?”

“Yeah, seriously.” Con leaned over and rested his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder. “What tipped you off?”

“Cheesy porn music.” Off their stares, Tim made a faint huffing noise and said, “I was trained by _Batman._ To fight, among other people, _Poison Ivy._ My life doesn't turn into a cheesy porn until I say it does.”

“You know, I hadn't considered that.”

Another tense silence, and then Teddy said, “So, uh...explain the part where I don't get to zip up again?”

“In a second, Tee.” Billy kissed him on the cheek and then turned back to Tim. “So. Not until you say so.”

Tim nodded. “Not a moment sooner.”

“What do you think are the chances of you saying so in, let's say, fifteen seconds from now?”

Con and Teddy blinked, looking simultaneously surprised and pleased. Tim raised an eyebrow at Billy and then said, stonefaced and with the utmost seriousness, “Oh, I think eighty percent at least.”


	16. Beat The Heat I: Chilly Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate and Miss America sunbathe on the roof, and when Kate gets a little overheated Miss A helps her cool down.
> 
> NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was surprisingly hot here yesterday, and that made me have sexy thoughts, so I wrote some porn. This is...absolute PWP. It is all about ladies. And it contains gratuitous Neruda.
> 
> It's numbered because I'm going to write a more sexy hot-weather drabbles with the other couples.

It's a breathless day in August, and Kate and Miss A are sunbathing on the roof of the lair, hidden away from prying eyes by a little stand of curtains they'd set up the day before. Not that most people around here get creepy, but it's nice to be able to get a good even tan without worrying about Peeping Toms (or Tommys, because he knows that if he moves the curtain he's a dead man). They've got a little rug and a couple of deck chairs, and a cloth bin where they can put their clothes, and a little table for their drinks and books—currently occupied by a pitcher of ice water, two tall glasses, and a mostly-forgotten bag of chips.

Kate groans into the cushion of her chair, one arm hanging down to drag on the rug. “I'm going to melt.”

America grins and takes a sip of ice water. “Poor baby. You're not built for this kind of heat, _querida._ Not enough spice.”

“Hey, no fair. I'm spicy. I can be spicy. I'm—” she shifts, and winces as she comes unstuck from the chair. “Ok, no, I take it back, I have no spice. I'm dying of the heat here. The things I do for a tan.” She presses her face into the cushion and sighs again, shutting her eyes and letting the rays of the sun beat down on her naked back.

Next to her she hears the quiet clinking of a glass, and she ignores it until America says, “Still too hot, _halconita?_ ”

“Mmph. God. Yes. I don't know why I thought tanning was a good ide—oh!” Something burningly cold touches the back of her neck—an ice cube, still dripping from where Miss A had fished it from her cup. “Oh, _wow,_ that's cold.”

“Too cold?” America sounds like she's laughing; Kate wants to check, but that'd involve lifting her head, and it's just too hot.

So instead she just says, “No,” into the cushion. “No, that—oh, that feels _really_ good,” as the ice cube traces slowly down her spine. “Mm. Cold is good. And—oh, _wow, hot,_ ” and she shudders hard as America's _tongue_ follows the same path as the ice cube.

At the base of her spine, America pauses and murmurs something against her skin, which resolves after a moment into, “Turn over.”

Kate groans. “I don't _wanna._ It's _hot._ ”

“And I'm gonna _help_ with that, _querida._ Turn over.”

Kate considers arguing again, but no. This is going interesting places all of a sudden. She rolls over in her chair, almost losing her sunglasses in the process, and smiles up at America, who's leaning over her. America's face is shadowed by her hair, but she's smiling too. She fishes another ice cube from her glass and holds it to Kate's lips, and Kate sucks, enjoying the chill of it in the midst of the day's heat.

“Feeling a little cooler, baby?”

“Hardly.” She laughs. “I'm feeling _way_ warmer now.”

“Well, lemme see if I can fix that. Scooch over.” Kate obliges, and America kneels on the deck chair next to her. “Now just hold still...”

The ice cube leaves a damp trail as America runs it over her lips, traces the line of her jaw and chills the hollow of her throat. Then it's sliding down her chest, and Kate gasps as America draws spirals on her breasts, pausing at the tip of each with a smirk that Kate would kiss off her face if she could concentrate at all. She doesn't have to summon the focus for it, though, because America makes the decision for her, and her mouth is hot as the ice cube she's holding travels further down. Chill circles her navel, a little thread of water trickles down her lower belly, and then there's a little clicking clatter as the ice cube is tossed off to one side onto the pavement and America's hand strokes down her stomach and between her legs, and Kate says, _“Oh.”_

America smiles and strokes lazily and says, “ _Te amo sin saber como, ni cuando, ni de donde._ Feeling cooler yet?” Her fingers touch and tease, they draw little circles, dot little i's and cross little t's.

“Hardly,” Kate huffs, reaching up to grab her girlfriend around the waist and pull her close, enjoying for a moment the taste of sweat-salty skin on her tongue. “What were you just saying?”

“It's poetry. _Te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo._ What about now, _halconita?_ ” One fingertip slips between the folds and _in_ for a moment. _“Asi te amo porque no si amar de otra manera.”_

Kate's eyes flutter shutter behind her sunglasses, her back arches and arches again, and the slow build of pressure is like a coiled spring, or a cord twisting tighter and tighter. Any second now she could lose it and unravel, she could go flying to pieces all over the roof from the feeling of America's hand between her legs and lips on her lips. And _she,_ oh, Miss America is _relentless,_ once she's got a goal she doesn't give it up for _anything,_ which normally means that someone's about to get their ass kicked except for those times when it means something far, far sweeter and—

And—

And—

Andand _andandand—_

_Heat._

She unravels and melts boneless into her deck chair, shoulders aching pleasantly from the release of tension she didn't know she'd built up, still hot and sweaty but _entirely_ at peace with it now. After a moment of sleepy suspension she manages to open her eyes and beam up at America and say, “You know, bubblegum, I _do_ feel cooler now.”

America smiles at her. “I'd _hope_ so, rich girl, because after all that hard work I'm feeling a little overheated myself.”

Kate laughs and kisses her and murmurs, “Well, then, maybe _you_ should have a lie down and _I'll_ help _you_ get cool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poetry Miss A starts reciting is from Pablo Neruda's “Love Sonnet XVII”:
> 
> _Te amo sin saber como, ni cuando, ni de donde,  
>  te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:  
> asi te amo porque no si amar de otra manera_
> 
> which, translated, is:
> 
> I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,  
> I love you simply, without problems or pride;  
> I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving
> 
> (Poem and translation taken from [The 4AM Cook](http://its4am.wordpress.com/tag/pablo-neruda/))
> 
> It is one of the world's sexiest poems.


	17. Closing Remarks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "eivind-is-a-phoenix asked:
> 
> "Can we see Tommy in the courtroom? Arguing with some butt-face parents who tried to sell their mutant child to the mafia or something? And Tommy gets up and gives a big, moving speech, and then denies forever that he did because he knows Billy would tease him about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I liked writing this one a lot. It gets really domestic and fluffy at the end.

“Counselor Shepherd? Your closing remarks?”

“Of course, Judge Walters. Permission to do the thing?”

Jennifer Walters rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Permission granted. Grudgingly.”

“Thank you, Judge Walters.” Tommy stood, nodded pleasantly to the opposing council, and adjusted his suit jacket. Then he turned to the jury and bowed, just a bit. The members smiled, and a couple of them laughed a little—such a gentleman! He beamed, and his teeth were photogenically white. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we're here today because of a very sad series of events.”

Sad they were, and it was a little difficult not to start shouting as he went back over the facts of the case—the boy in question, his unusual matter-mutation powers, his parents' attempt to sign away custody to an “uncle” who'd come bearing large sums of money in unmarked bills. The entire thing might have gone unnoticed if it hadn't been for the boy's grandparents, who sat at the front of the courtroom, mouths tight.

He was getting to the best part.

“It can be difficult, raising a mutant child.” He blurred and reappeared with an apple in hand, and some of the jury members and spectators gasped quietly. Jennifer Walters just sighed. He grinned and took a bite of his apple. “Not every parent wants to deal with the hassle.” The apple went flying through the air towards the jury, and some of them shrieked and ducked—but there he was to catch it, having moved across the courtoom faster than they could see. “Mine certainly didn't.”

He took off his suit jacket, blurred, and it was draped over the back of his chair and he was next to the jury box again. The jurors murmured, glancing at each other. Jennifer Walters rolled her eyes again, although her mouth was twitching in a way that suggested that she was trying not to smile.

His hands went to his necktie. He suppressed a grin.

“But difficulty is hardly an excuse for something like, for example, _this—_ ”

\-- 

He got through the front door and had barely gotten it shut before Noh-Varr's hands were pressed against the wood on either side of his head. The Kree was looking at him like he was dinner—or perhaps, given Noh's eating habits, a bowl of raw eggs and cardboard. “I enjoy watching you work.”

“I _know_ you do,” kiss, “the question is,” kiss, “ _how_ do you manage it?” More kisses. “You didn't come to court.” Tommy tried to wiggle out of Noh-Varr's grip, failed, rolled his eyes, and extracted himself from his suit jacket from within the circle of his husband's arms. “You're going to wrinkle my suit.”

“I have the courtroom extensively bugged. We watched your closing remarks after the lecture. Your suit could stand some wrinkling.”

“After the—shit, today was an FF day, wasn't it.”

“Power felt that the video feed was an excellent follow-up to his lecture on social justice. Then I gave a lecture on appropriate government regulation of child-rearing. We had a very entertaining shouting match in the cafeteria. Go get changed, we're having dinner with your brother tonight, remember?”

“I'll get changed as soon as you let me _move,_ roach boy.”

Noh-Varr gazed down at him with predatory regard for a moment and then said, “Actually, I think we can be a few minutes late.”

\--

The knock was a courtesy thing; as soon as they heard Billy's shout of acknowledgment Tommy simply vibrated them through the door of the apartment and then nearly fell over as a small green form impacted with his legs, accompanied by a shriek of, “Uncle _Tommy!_ ”

Tommy grinned. “Hey there, princess.”

Billy emerged from the kitchen and waved. “Hey, Tom, Noh-Varr—Ali, don't _climb_ your uncle!”

“I don't mind.” Noh-Varr stood patiently while Alison clambered up his legs and back and perched on his shoulder. Once she was firmly situated he looked up at her and nodded solemnly. “Good evening, Alison. I hear you met Spider-man the other day.”

She grinned at him and said something at high speed that had Tommy choking off a laugh in the middle of handing Billy the six-pack of beer they'd brought. “You better keep an eye on her, little brother. I think she's in love.”

“She's _three._ ”

“Why would that matter? I had a crush on my babysitter when I was four.”

From the kitchen there wafted in a shout of, “ _Susan!_ What have we told you about levitating things in the house?” There was a sound of a small girl's chastised muttering, and then Teddy leaned out of the kitchen and waved with a wooden spoon that still bore a few traces of tomato sauce. “Dinner in ten, guys. Tommy, did you _seriously_ take your shirt off in court and show the jury your scars?”

“How did _you_ hear about that?”

“Noh-Varr texted me about it.”

“Since when do you _text,_ babe?”

Noh-Varr shrugged, nearly dislodging his passenger, who giggled. “Since we started working together regularly. It's difficult to coordinate intergalactic expeditions when you have to wait for someone to pick up the phone.”

“You should see the texts I get from Xavin! Sue, sweetie, don't stick your hand in there, you'll burn yourself.”

They made their way into the dining room—and Tommy marveled, once again, at the size of the apartment Kate had helped his brother find—and sat down at the table, Noh-Varr still carrying Alison on his shoulders. Billy picked her up as he passed by and balanced her on one hip. “Seriously, though. You took your shirt off?”

Tommy put his nose in the air. “I did no such thing.”

“Oh, don't lie to me, you _so_ did. You're the biggest drama queen the New York courts have ever seen.”

“I am _not._ ”

“It gets worse. Hello, Susan.” Noh-Varr leaned down and scooped up his other niece as she came running in from the kitchen, setting her on the spot on his shoulders that Alison had just vacated. She giggled, morphing her hair to white and her face to look like his, and then promptly fell asleep and started drooling on the top of his head, her hands clasped on his forehead. “He actually took an acting course a while ago, just to make his in-court performances more effective. 'Unlocking Your Feelings Through Theatre.'”

Tommy buried his face in his hands. “Don't _tell_ him that, you alien traitor.”

Billy was smirking. “I thought you didn't have feelings.”

“I don't. He's lying. I don't have feelings. Completely manly and unfeeling over here.”

“And I could've _sworn_ I saw you and Noh holding hands just last week.”

“Nope! No hand-holding! Ali, Sue, tell your dad he's wrong, ok?”

Alison looked up at him from her father's lap, her green face solemn, and shook her head. “Daddy's always right.”

Susan said nothing, as she was still asleep on Noh-Varr's shoulders.

Billy was outright _grinning_ now. “It's ok, we're family, you can admit that you're a huge softy and you like to show off for the kids you represent in court.”

“Ted, your husband is bullying me!”

“Can't bully someone if they don't have any feelings to hurt, Tommy.” Teddy wandered in from the kitchen, kissed Billy, and removed Susan from Noh-Varr's head. She muttered sleepily as he sat down. “Anyway, dinner's almost cooked, it just needs to go for a couple more minutes. Seriously, though, what'd you do to Foggy to convince him to let you go for all that courtroom drama?”

“It's not drama, it's _artistry._ ”

“You're a showboater.”

“I'm a serious professional. _Murdock_ approves of me.”

“Well, of _course_ he approves of you, he's _Daredevil._ ” At this point Billy was clearly trying not to laugh. “Show-off.”

“Shut-in.”

“Drama queen.”

“Dweeb.”

Teddy and Noh-Varr glanced at each other and shrugged, and Teddy said, “So. Wanna help me get the girls in bed while they're having sibling bonding time?”

Noh-Varr nodded and stood up from the table, accepting Alison when Billy absentmindedly handed her over. “That sounds wonderful. So, have you heard from the Empire lately?”

“Yeah, they're doing all right, I said I'd show up and yell at them again if they all started acting like idiots.”

“You _are_ surprisingly good at that.”


	18. You Made Me Love You (I Didn't Want To Do It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the Tumblr post: "[Billywick](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Billywick) wanted to see some of Tommy’s thoughts on ending up accidentally married in _Parallel Lines_. And this is that. It’s…semi-angsty? But it has a happy ending. ^_^"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You Made Me Love You" is a favorite old song of mine, a wonderfully weird love song because it's simultaneously happy and mournful.

Noh-Varr got him a ring.

Tommy stares at it, in its little velvet box, and isn't really sure what to think. He's had it for three hours now, and he's still not quite certain of what he's feeling.

It's not made of gold, or silver, or even platinum. _Rhodium,_ Noh-Varr said, and Tommy didn't understand, he doesn't know shit about jewelry, but then he asked Kate and she got sort of a bug-eyed look for a moment and then said, “Tommy, your wedding ring is more valuable more than my cousin's Bugatti.” And he's no gearhead, obviously, but he _is_ a kid who grew up in Jersey, he knows his way around an issue of _Car & Driver_, so _that_ hit home. The stuff's rare here, Kate says, rare and valuable, but apparently Noh-Varr just had a _chunk_ of it floating around his ship, it's all over the place on Hala.

There's a stone in it, too, this little chip of something green that's _not_ an emerald, and when he holds it up to the window it shines in a way that fills the whole room, decorating the walls with shattered chips of light. Noh-Varr assured him that it'll last, that it can stand up to whatever he puts it through, that no matter how fast he goes wearing it it'll keep its shine and shape forever.

“I'm aware that I'm not doing this in the correct order,” Noh-Varr had said. “It's not a gesture we have where I'm from, I didn't know if it was strictly necessary.”

Because normally you get the ring _before_ you're married, right?

He picks it up and turns it in his hand, watching the stone's facets catch the light, and suddenly what comes to mind is a song. Not even a song he _likes,_ an _old_ song. One of the ones his mother used to listen to.

_“You made me love you, I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it...”_

\--

Eight years old, and his mother's had a little too much to drink, just _one_ beer too many, a little pyramid of Michelob Light cans in the middle of the kitchen table. That means she gets out the record player and puts on her old vinyls, and she always wants him to dance with her while she sings along.

“You made me love you and all the time you knew it, I guess you always knew it...”

Tommy does what he can. Dad's out of town, on another circuit with his sample case and his ingratiating grin and his girlfriends he pretends they don't know about, so he can't help. All Tommy can do, really, is hold his mother's hands, and they sway on the living room carpet together, narrowly missing the coffee table and the display of Precious Moments figurines Aunt Alice keeps giving them.

“You made me happy sometimes, you made me glad, but there were times, dear, you made me feel so bad...”

He's heard the song so many times now that he almost starts singing with her, but that never ends well, it only makes her angry because he can't stay on-key. Not that she can, she's not nearly as good as she thinks she is. He doesn't mention that to her.

They bump the table and the record starts to skip, Judy Garland's voice quavery and sickly-sweet as she croons, _“I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it,”_ over and over again.

And his mother makes the horrible unnatural sound that adults make when they're about to start crying, and suddenly Tommy's face is pressed against her stomach. She smells like beer and lasagna, and she's holding onto him so tight that it hurts a little. “Tom,” she says, and then, “Thomas,” which means he _knows_ it's bad this time. “Oh, Thomas, baby, don't get married. Don't ever get married, ok? You'll only get your heart broken.” She starts swaying again, and he's pretty much stuck following along, since he can't get away from her. “I could have done so much, if I hadn't gotten married. I could've...could've gone to France. I could've been a singer. So much, I've missed _so_ much, there's so much I could have done if I hadn't gotten married...”

\--

Of course, Tommy thinks, still staring at the ring, by the time he was arrested for the first time, when he was twelve—well, by _that_ time it wasn't “if I hadn't gotten married” anymore, it was just “if it weren't for you.” So he's not sure how much he wants to trust her on that, especially since he hasn't spoken to her in at least five years now.

But then, too, he knows how marriage works out for most people, or at least most superheroes. Cassie's parents. Cyclops and Jean Grey. Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne. Sue and Reed Richards are still married, _barely—_ hell, _Wanda_ was married, and he knows better than most people how well _that_ ended up going. Billy and Teddy are happy enough, but they're freaks, and the Kaplans have some Stepford shit going on that he's not even prepared to speculate about.

Here he is, though.

A married man.

Not that it was ever the plan, not that Noh-Varr _asked_ him, everything just sort of _happened_ all in the one night—they're in love, and now they're fucking, and then boom. He's married.

Parts of him want to be pissed at Noh for just _doing_ it like that, but it was an honest mistake—and isn't _that_ fucking terrifying, that he got married by _mistake,_ what if getting angry at him for that wrecks it? If he mentions it, Noh might change his mind, might take it back, and _then_ where would he be?

And that _stupid fucking song_ keeps playing in his head.

_“You made me sigh for, I didn't want to tell you, I didn't want to tell you...”_

Now the sun's going down, and the flames of the pollution-heavy New York sunset make the ring glow in his hand like a little chip of hellfire, and what if he fucks it up? How long will it be before he says or does something, or Noh-Varr says or does something, and it all falls apart? _Especially_ since it isn't something they ever planned on, it just fell on their heads and they've got to balance it there, like girls learning to walk straight in stupid old movies, or women with jars in his social studies textbook. One false move and everything could shatter.

Except...

Except...

Except he _likes_ this.

Judy fucking Garland and his mother, singing together, _“Give me, give me, give me what I cry for, you know you've got the brand of kisses that I'd die for...”_

He _likes_ being married, not that he would've ever expected that. He likes knowing that Noh-Varr's _his,_ no sharing, no joking, and (hopefully) no take-backs.

No, actually.

Fuck _likes._

He _loves_ it. He loves _Noh-Varr,_ horrifying eating habits and cockroach DNA and whoops-suddenly-married and all.

“You've been in here for a while.”

He looks up, startled. Noh-Varr came in while he was distracted, and now his _husband—_ his cockroach-DNA-filled, trash-eating, infuriatingly-absent-minded-when-it-comes-to-important-shit-like-weddings alien husband—is standing over him, looking concerned.

“Did I do something wrong? ...is it the ring, do you not like it?”

“No, roach boy, I like it just fine.” Tommy butts his head against Noh-Varr's stomach, enjoying the feeling when Noh-Varr runs a hand through his hair and scratches at the nape of his neck. “Just...thinking about that whole thing where we're married.”

“Ah.” And suddenly Noh-Varr's tense. “Does it...bother you? I know I didn't actually ask you about it first...”

“No, I'm...” Is this the time for honesty? Yes. Yes it is. “...I'm happy. I'm happy about it. I was pissed at first, you can't just spring that on a guy, but I'm happy.”

“...so you'd marry me again, given the chance.” Has Noh-Varr been worrying about this shit too? Noh doesn't worry about _anything._ “If. If anything happened.”

That's...one hell of a question.

Tommy thinks about it and says, “Yeah. Yeah, I would.”

“That makes me—”

“In fact, I think I'd like to.”

“What?”

Tommy puts the ring back in the box and hands it back to Noh-Varr.

Noh-Varr stares at the box. “...what do you want me to do?”

Tommy smiles up at him. “I want to marry you again.”

“...good?”

“Only this time?”

“Yes?”

“Ask me first.”


	19. Beat The Heat II: Daydream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a hot day, and Billy and Teddy are lying on the floor, feeling sleepy and horny.
> 
> NSFW

The thermometer reads ninety, and with the humidity it feels more like the inside of a pot of boiling water than anywhere suitable for life. Billy and Teddy are lying on the floor in their room at the Bishop Publishing building, stripped down to t-shirts and boxers, surrounded by a scattering of discarded comics and unfinished homework. The lights are off—they'd only make it hotter, and there's plenty of illumination from the open windows.

Teddy rolls from his stomach to his back, winces as he accidentally moves out of the shaded part of the room, and edges away from the sunlight. “This is _entirely_ unacceptable.”

“Seriously, I _know._ ” Billy's more careful about turning over, wriggling out of his t-shirt as he does so that he can press his back against the cool wood of the floor. “It's too hot to do _anything._ Too hot to read. Too hot to write. Too hot to do my psych statistics homework.”

“I'm really horny.”

“So am I. That's why this is so awful. It's too hot to have sex.”

“I know, that's only making it worse. All I can do is think about what I'd like to be doing. It's getting pretty involved.”

They lie side by side for a few minutes, just staring at the ceiling and trying to breath in the choking heat. After a moment Teddy twists out of his shirt as well and tosses it to one side. His hand brushes Billy's shoulder, and Billy winces. “Too hot.”

Teddy grins, eyes drifting sleepily shut. “I know I am, but what are you?”

Billy snorts. “Smartass. Clearly _I'm_ the hot one.”

“No arguments here.”

Another long, melting moment, and then Billy says “...man, you know who's hot?”

Teddy rolls over on his side, arching an eyebrow. “Besides me? Who?”

“Iron Fist.” Billy grins at the ceiling. “I used to have a crush on him.”

“Oh my _god._ Yes. Iron Fist is _so_ hot.” Teddy laughs breathlessly. “I mean, hey. Kung fu guy. Kung fu is sexy. _And_ he's really nice.”

“ _And_ Luke. Power Man. I had a crush on him too. I used to ship them. They were the first pairing I ever read sexy fanfiction for.” Beat. “Before I met them, of course.”

“Oh, of course. Can't read sexy fanfiction about people you've met.”

“Because that would be wrong.”

“Yep. So wrong.”

Beat. Beat. The slow heartbeat of the noonday sun, they're both hot and sweaty, feeling kind of stupid and more than a little horny, and then, “I used to have daydreams about him. Iron Fist. Before we were together. Or one daydream, over and over.” His hands, flung over his head to maximize cooling floor contact, are moving now; he runs his fingers through his hair, starts drumming lightly on his stomach. “And then I met you and suddenly it was about you instead.”

“Yeah? You had a dream about me?” Teddy's hands are drifting too, down toward the waistband of his boxers. “Tell me about it.”

Billy flushes. His breath comes quicker. “You want me to tell you about my daydreams?”

“Sure. Tell me.”

“Well...” Billy bites his lip. His boxers are tenting already, and he thumbs the button open without looking at it. “Well, it always started with being a hero. You know, we're on patrol, we're out in the city fighting bad guys. And...the way I remember it, I get hit in the face.”

Laughter. “Your fantasy starts with you getting hit in the face.”

“I used to get hit in the face a _lot_ at school _,_ it wasn't really anything special. So I get hit in the face, I get a split lip, and he...you...you pull me into this alleyway and say 'let me take a look' or something like that. And I'm expecting you to just clean it up or something, but instead you bend down—you're always taller than me—and _lick_ it.”

He hesitates as he reaches for his cock, and Teddy's voice is a little rough as he says, “Do it. Touch yourself while you're talking. I want to watch.”

The flush on Billy's cheeks goes from pink to dark, dark red, and he doesn't reply at first, he just wraps his hand around himself and starts stroking. “I, mm, I remember imagining how your tongue would feel on my mouth.”

“Something like this?” Teddy edges over, props himself up on one elbow, and bends down to run his tongue along Billy's lower lip. His free hand brushes sweat-damp hair out of Billy's face and then goes to his own erection, shoving his boxers out of the way.

“ _Yeah._ Yes, like that.” Billy squeezes himself, panting. “I'm surprised, and then you say you'd been wanting to do it for a while, you just...weren't sure how to say it, and that's how _I_ feel too. And then he...you...pick me up, so I can kiss you, and we're really close together so I can _feel_ how hard you are, and you can feel how hard _I_ am, and...I don't know, normally something stupid happened there, one of us makes a dumb joke or something.”

“Because you're you.”

“Because I'm me. Yeah. And from there, from there I always, you put me down and I just _kneel,_ I just drop to my knees and— _oh_ , that's, that's really hot, that feels really good,” as Teddy bends his head and drags his tongue across one of Billy's nipples, “I always thought about sucking you. About sucking your cock. Like, before the team, before we were going out, when you were just one of the guys on the basketball team. I thought you were so hot, and people would drag me to basketball games and I'd just sit there in the bleachers and think about blowing you.” He keeps stroking, eyes heavy-lidded.

“So you're on your knees.” Teddy's voice sounds a little funny, like he's having trouble making the words form properly. “Do I get my dick out _for_ you? Do I _show_ you how hard I am for you?”

“ _Yesssss..._ you open your pants and I ask if I can touch it, if I can suck your cock _please,_ I really want to, and you...you say, 'What if someone sees us?' And I say I don't care, they can look if they like, so I start sucking you, you start _fucking_ my _mouth_...” His voice is unsteady, and he arches because he _knows_ Teddy's watching him, can hear, faintly, the sound of Teddy stroking himself, even though he can't see it because his eyes are all the way shut now. He's showing off. “And when you _come,_ when you come you say my _name..._ ”

“Sure I do.” Teddy's mouth next to his ear. “ _Fuck,_ Bee, you look _so—_ do _I_ get a turn? It's not fair if I don't get to blow _you._ ”

“I.” Voice stopping in his throat for a moment. “Yes, you do, you help me up and you get my pants down and I don't care if anyone hears me or sees me or anything because it's _you,_ it's all _you_ , and I—” and he's trying to keep talking but the pressure's too much and Teddy's teeth graze over that sensitive spot on his neck and he goes mute, jolting now not to show off but because he can't _help_ it and Teddy's hand covers his on his cock and tugs and the sun hits him as he comes and for a moment the room's not so hot.

And then he's hot and drowsy, but Teddy's panting beside him, so he reaches over and pulls Teddy's hand away and strokes _him,_ Teddy's sweat-beaded forehead pressing into his shoulder even though it's _way_ too warm to be touching and Teddy actually _does_ it. He says, _“Billy,”_ as he comes, exhaling the name over Billy's skin.

After a moment, then, Billy says, sleepily now, “I just realized we didn't lock the door.”

Teddy grins. “I thought you wanted people to see?”

“...maybe?”

A laugh. “Although I gotta say, Bee, that's pretty vanilla for a sexy daydream.”

Billy makes a face and then starts laughing himself. “Ok then. Next time it's this hot I'll tell you about the one where we get captured by villains and tied up.”

“Ooh. _Please_ do.”


	20. Close Your Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America's not allowed to grab Kate's hair.
> 
> NSFW

America isn't allowed to grab Kate's hair anymore. Not after that one time.

See, the _problem_ with being a baseline human and dating people with super-strength is that when they get grabby, they grab _hard,_ and Kate _likes_ her hair. She likes it a _lot,_ and prefers it best when it's _attached_ to her head and not coming out in America's hand.

But Kate _also_ likes the tastes of her, likes the little whining noise she makes when she's right on the edge, likes hearing her give up on English and curse in the language her mothers taught her. And America has to be able to hold onto _something_ , because when she tried not grabbing _anything_ she just ended up punching a hole in the wall. They fixed the hole, no problem, but they had to spend the entire time hearing about how Noh-Varr did that once too, and then Billy shyly mentioned that Teddy had _also_ once put his arm through a wall during sex.

So apparently, in the Young Avengers, oral sex means stock up on spackle.

Anyway, after the hair-pulling problem and the hole-in-the-wall incident, they had to figure out something else to do.

America's not a _delicate_ person, nothing like that, but she's very _conscious_ of herself. Hair incident notwithstanding, she only ever hurts people when she _wants_ to, and she _certainly_ doesn't want to hurt Kate. It's actually easier for her to focus on not hurting people than on making sure objects remain unbroken.

Instead of hair-grabbing or bracing against and then going through the wall or tearing holes in perfectly good sheets, they hold hands. With America's fingers entwined in hers Kate can be sure nothing untoward's going to happen.

So she lifts her eyes as she licks and America arches her back and tightens her grip and shouts wordlessly, her feet pressing against Kate's shoulders. Kate draws a circle with the tip of her tongue, suppressing the urge to giggle, and the shout trails off into a breathless moan that Kate could happily record and listen to when she's feeling down. Then a garbled curse, and now Kate _does_ giggle, and that just makes America curse _more._

_\--_

The shout, the moan, the curse reverberate down through the house, and in the kitchen Billy freezes in the act of flipping the bacon and goes bright red. “So. Uh.”

Noh-Varr looks up from the newspaper. “I see Kate and America have woken up.”

“You think they realize how loud they are?” Tommy's halfway through his third cup of coffee and already reaching for the pot again. “I mean, I know I _talk_ a ton, but I'm not _that_ noisy.”

“You're loud, Tommy.” Teddy doesn't even bother to put down his Daredevil comic. “You're _really_ loud.”

“Hey, I am not!”

Noh-Varr and Billy are now watching with interest as Teddy turns a page of his comic and says, in a monotone, “Oh, fuck. Fuck, that feels good, do that again. No, hey, don't fuckin'—Noh, god, if you stop I'll fucking kill you.” A pause, and then, in Kree and a passable imitation of Noh-Varr's deep bass, “<Never. Never stop. I could do this forever.>”

He turns another page in his comic, and from the upper floor comes a ragged shout of, _“Kate!”_ as if it's punctuation.

Tommy's bright red, Noh-Varr looked vaguely pleased, and Billy stares fixedly at the wall for a moment, as if he's seeing things that he wasn't sure he was prepared for, and then says, “Shit, the bacon's going to burn,” and gets back to cooking.

\--

America's back is taut—like a bowstring, Kate would think if she was paying attention—and she's shaking now, shaking and shouting like the world's going to end, and then she does the thing that Kate always likes, where she tenses and releases and then starts _laughing._ Normally she's so even, but when she laughs it shines like nothing else. She laughs as she comes, chanting a bubbly, “Kate, Kate, oh Katie, baby, oh, Kate.”

Then she's done and happy and melty and Kate kisses her at _least_ five times, and then they get dressed and clean their teeth and head downstairs to get some breakfast.

The boys are all awake already, and Billy looks sort of embarrassed about something as he passes them both plates of bacon. Teddy, interacting seriously with the frittata that he just pulled out of the oven, waves to them and smiles in a way that suggests he's thinking of something funny. Noh-Varr raises his coffee cup to them in an easy morning salute.

And Tommy. Fucking Tommy. Grins at them as he passes the coffee pot and says, “So. Ladies. Sleep well?”


	21. What Goes Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt:
> 
> "n0proxy asked:
> 
> "Could I… prompt? Nohmmy, in the earlier stages of their relationship, Noh-Varr tries to use some things he sees from Billy and Teddy’s relationship on Tommy? Fluff, angst, anything? 5 times it didn’t work out, and one time it did?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may get a cavity.

1.

It turns out that Tommy, unlike his brother, is _violently_ allergic to roses.

2.

He doesn't hold hands unless he's trying to restrain someone.

3.

Tommy doesn't have the patience for moonlit walks—he would rather be running.

4.

Cuddling _does_ happen, but he complains about it, which is a shame, because his warmth is pleasant to bask in.

5.

“What, are you _joking?_ I have hands, you don't have to _feed_ me.”

+1

Noh-Varr _isn't_ watching them; he doesn't really care about what Billy and Teddy get up to in their private moments except inasmuch as he's mildly curious about what level of similarity this “twins” concept entails.

Scientific curiosity, of course.

Not that he would _ever_ mention that to Tommy.

 _Not_ the point.

The point is, all he wants is a soda, he's been up late researching theoretical physics for a project he's considering. Tommy's asleep, Kate and America are at the Bishop house tonight, and Billy and Teddy are out doing...something. On a date, probably.

But as he's leaving the kitchen with his soda they stumble in, laughing, in their costumes and punch-drunk. Billy is covered in smudges of soot; Teddy's hair is half standing up. They don't see him.

When they kiss it's like what Noh's seen in human _movies—_ a whirl, and then Billy's back hitting the wall with a thump, one of Teddy's hands behind his head, the other pressed against his chest to hold him in place. Billy's face is tilted up to meet his husband's, and it is film-perfect. Were Noh-Varr of an artistic bent, he'd want a camera.

They kiss, and Noh-Varr hears Teddy murmur, “I love you,” and Billy flushes red and his eyes are bright and his joy is almost palpable.

It occurs to Noh-Varr that he doesn't say that very often. His time with Tommy is rarely quiet, and neither of them is terribly demonstrative; most things go without saying. Without _needing_ to be said.

But perhaps Tommy would appreciate being reminded.

So a few days later they have time for an actual _date._ They go out for dinner, they wine and dine extensively, the Sons of the Serpent attack a nearby bank right before dessert, and the evening is a roaring success. They stumble back to the Bishop Publishing building punch-drunk and laughing, fumble the door open, and shuck their shoes in the hallway.

The moment is right.

The kiss is picture-perfect, Noh's hand behind Tommy's head to hold him up, his other hand on Tommy's chest to hold him _there._ His lips are chapped, but his mouth is still otherwise soft.

Noh-Varr says, softly, “I love you.”

And Tommy's cheeks, already pink from wind and running, go red, and he stares, eyes wide and somehow _baffled._ Like he doesn't understand what Noh just said, or why he said it.

Or, perhaps, if he means it.

He says it again. “I love you.”

Tommy blushes harder and mutters, “You _sap._ ”

So it didn't work.

“Noh-Varr.”

He blinks. “Yes?”

Tommy swallows hard and says, “I love you too.”

The feeling is extraordinary and baffling.

In the hall, foreheads pressed together, they stare into each others' eyes, wrapped in this puzzling, unknowable warmth.

“So,” Tommy says.

“Yes?”

“We missed dessert. I want ice cream.”

“We can have ice cream.”

“Let's do that.”

Neither of them wants to move.

Then Tommy pulls away and huffs and says, “Jeez. If we keep this up we'll turn into Billy and Teddy.”

Noh-Varr grins. “I could stand that. But only for you.”


	22. Beat The Heat III: On The Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy and Noh-Varr go swimming to fight off the summer heat.
> 
> NSFW

Last weekend they went to a tropical island. The weekend before that they hit the beach down in Florida. The weekend before _that_ they went diving in the Great Barrier Reef.

 _This_ weekend, though, they decided to stay a little closer to home—up in the mountains, in the Adirondacks, on a secluded part of the shore of a sparkling lake. The day is five-minute-sunburn hot, especially for Tommy, who burns so quickly that sunburn hardly helps. But the water, the water is cold and clear.

Their clothes are draped over a couple of rocks near the water; the beach they've picked is far enough away from civilization that they don't even need to think about swimsuits. It's been used in the past—there's a wooden dock a little ways out, an ancient fire pit dug into the sand down at one end—but no other signs of recent life.

Swimming isn't easy for Noh-Varr, at least not on Earth. He's much heavier than the average human, and doesn't float with the same kind of immediate ease that his human friends do. He _can_ , however, hold his breath much longer than most humans can, and he sees underwater as easily as in air. So he dives, and under the clear water he watches the fish in fascination, explores the lake floor like it's an alien world. Which, he thinks, it rather is.

He surfaces, and hears Tommy crowing, “Hey, babe! Check this out!”

Tommy is perched on the edge of the dock, his damp skin glittering in the sunlight. Once he sees that Noh-Varr's watching him, though, he waves and gets to his feet. He shakes himself like a dog, water droplets flying from his hair, and then tenses and dives in, hands perfect in front of him. Cutting through the water like a dolphin. _He's_ a good swimmer. He barely has to try, he just undulates through the water, and it's one of the finest things Noh-Varr's ever seen.

Tommy reaches him, grabs his shoulders, and seals their lips together, coaxing Noh-Varr's tongue into his mouth.

When he has the opportunity, when he can talk again, Noh-Varr laughs and says, “You're beautiful.”

Tommy flicks his hair out of his eyes, smirking. “Well, _duh._ ”

“You're also _incredibly_ uncultured.”

“Says the man who'd never seen _Kill Bill_ before I met him.”

Noh-Varr dunks him.

He comes up spluttering and laughing, grabbing Noh's shoulders again, and then yells in pleased surprise when Noh-Varr wraps an arm around his waist and starts swimming for the dock again. “What are you _doing,_ you alien moron?”

“I had an idea.”

They reach the dock, and Noh-Varr hoists Tommy up onto it, sitting him on the edge so his feet hang down into the water. _He_ stays in the lake, holding himself up by his grip on the dock, and shifts forward so he's bobbing in the water in between Tommy's legs.

Tommy looks down at him with heavy-lidded eyes and says, “ _Oh._ Well, if _that's_ how it is...”

“What did you _think_ my idea was? I don't normally pick you up for other reasons.”

“What are you talking about? You pick me up _all the time._ It drives me crazy holy _shit_ your breath is ho-oh- _ah!_ ”

Noh-Varr runs his tongue up the vein of Tommy's slowly rising erection and says, “ _What_ does? I'm sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Tommy's flushed, and only some of it is sunburn. “I said you're _always_ picking me uh- _uuuuup._ ”

“I'm always _what?_ ” Noh-Varr smirks and mouths at the head of his cock.

“Noh, I'm going to _kill youuuuu..._ ”

Finally Tommy stops trying to talk and just tosses his head back, sun shining on his face, his feet beating a gentle tattoo on Noh-Varr's shoulderblades as the Kree's mouth sinks down on him. This lake's very clean, luckily enough, clean and cool, and Noh closes his eyes and enjoys losing himself in the taste of skin and water and the sound of Tommy making little gasping noises, because somehow he's _quieter_ when there's no chance of being overheard.

“ _Noh-_ Varr... _I_...I wasn't _planning_ on thi~ _is_...”

Noh-Varr hums inquisitively, and Tommy jolts, the wood of the dock splintering under one hand—he's much stronger than he looks—while the fingers of his other hand scrabble at Noh-Varr's hair. He also makes another little noise, and it's so funny that Noh-Varr starts to laugh, deep-chested, his mouth still on Tommy's cock.

Tommy _yells,_ and the yell echoes across the surface of the lake.

And it's _still_ funny. So Noh-Varr laughs more.

And Tommy says, _“Ah!”_ and shakes and comes down the back of his throat, gripping the edge of the dock so hard that a chunk comes off in his fingers.

Noh-Varr pulls back, swallows, licks his lips absently, and says, “This lake is very pleasant. We should come here more often.”

“ _I'll_ say.” Shaky, Tommy drops back into the water and clings to Noh-Varr's arm for support. “Going to have a sunburn on my face. No thanks to you.”

“I'm sure there's something you _should_ be thanking me for.”

Tommy puts his nose in the air like a cat and says, “I don't know what you mean.”

“Tommy...”

An eye-roll, and then a sudden mischievous grin, and Tommy grabs his hand and says, “Get up there. I feel like checking how long I can hold my breath. Get _you_ a sunburn to match.”


	23. The Young Santa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From tandlerovmusic: "Tommy can make his hair grow at superhuman speeds, so for Christmas, Billy and Teddy pester him into growing a Santa beard and entertaining the twins."

“Why am I doing this?”

“Because you owe me one.” Billy frowns down at the counter. “Do you think this looks right? Mom sent me her challah recipe, but I don’t think I’m doing it right.”

“You don’t even celebrate Christmas! And how the hell would I know? Noh-Varr does all the cooking, I’m not even allowed in the kitchen unless it’s chowder night.”

“I may not celebrate Christmas, but Teddy does. We’re doing both sets of holidays, and I promised him I’d find a Santa while he and the girls go get a tree.”

“Why doesn’t  _he_  do it?  _He’s_  the shapeshifter!”

“Wouldn’t be convincing. The girls can always tell it’s him. Some kind of Skrull scent-identification thing.”

Tommy blinks. “Hadn’t even considered that. And just for the record, I hate you. Be back in fifteen.”

 

Growing hair  _always_  itches. Stimulating the follicles is a ticklish process by itself, with all the focused vibration, and then there’s the fact that hair—just,  _having hair_ —is itchy as hell. But it’s a useful talent to have, since he figured out how to do it; means he can give himself a mohawk on the weekend and be back to clean-cut-and-boring in time for court on Monday morning.

Or, in  _this_  case, grow a luxurious fucking beard to satisfy the demands of his doesn’t-even-celebrate-Christmas brother.

When he blurs back into the kitchen of Billy’s apartment Billy doesn’t even bat an eye. “I sent Mom a picture, she said it looks fine and not to worry about it.” Looks him over. “Pretty svelte for Santa Claus.”

“I’m the young Santa. Before he went Vegas.”

Billy snorts a laugh and twitches his fingers, magically dressing his brother in red and white. “Teddy and the girls will be back in five minutes. Get comfy in the living room? I need to set my bread up to rise.”

“I still hate you.”

A pause, and then Billy leans over and pulls his brother into a one-armed hug. “Love you too, Tom. Cookies in the pantry, milk in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Simultaneously irritated and pleased, Tommy gets himself some milk—in one of Teddy’s beer steins, because if he has to drink the stuff he’ll do it in real quantities—snags the package of Chips Ahoy, and makes himself comfortable in  _Billy’s_  favourite armchair. Because if he has to do this then Billy has to suffer a  _little._

A few minutes later, Billy sticks his head into the living room and winks, and then Tommy hears the front door open and Teddy shouts, “Tree coming through!”

His brother’s husband comes into the room with the Christmas tree—small, but definitely nicely put together—just  _slung over one shoulder,_ because people with super-strength are smug assholes like that. He grins when he sees Tommy slouched in the armchair, whispers, “Thanks, Tommy. I really appreciate it.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow. “You owe me beer.”

At the front door, Alison and Susan are apparently being extracted from their coats at the  _highest volume possible._  The rustling of fabric and the chattering of small girls is occasionally punctuated by Billy saying, “ _Ali!_  Off the coatrack!” (or ceiling or table or doorframe), and “Sue, you know what we said about shifting tearing holes in your nice new coat, right?” And finally they seem to have calmed down enough, because just as Teddy’s gotten the tree firmly moored in its stand, Billy’s voice drops low and he says, “Girls, did Dad tell you we have a guest?”

Tommy straightens in the armchair and braces himself.

“Don’t worry, man.” Teddy pats him on the shoulder and snags a cookie. “You make a great Santa.”

“I’m more worried about them stepping on delicate parts of me.”

“…true, that  _is_  a problem. Just…take a deep breath.”

Billy’s been talking in low tones in the front hall, and then there’s a breathless pause.

And the girls scramble into the room, climbing over each other in their haste to get through the doorway. Billy’s close behind them, grinning, and they stare at Tommy for a moment and then Alison shrieks, amazed,  _“Santa!”_

Frozen in the moment of truth, Tommy coughs, and then strokes his beard seriously and says, “Uh. Ho ho ho? Merry Christmas?”

Susan gapes at him, awestruck, and then they’re piling into his lap and over their heads Tommy mouths at his brother,  _“I’m going to kill you.”_

Billy flashes him a thumbs-up, and Teddy mouths back,  _“Merry Christmas, Tommy.”_

Tommy bites down on the urge to stick out his tongue—he doesn’t want to end up with a mouthful of beard, does he?—and instead looks down at the hopeful faces of the two small girls in his lap and says, “So. Uh. Have you two been good this year?”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you like the story, let me know! And if you just feel like saying hi or you have detailed questions (or you want to shoot me a prompt maybe), [hit me up on Tumblr!](dangerouscommiesubversive.tumblr.com)


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